Demons of past and present
by sams1ra
Summary: The ceiling Demon wasn't the only demon chasing the Winchesters. It was simply the first one to get to them. But now, another wants to claim a Winchester... Starts at the end of Devil's trap, probably AU. Now that Anna's gone, the nightmare begins!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Nope. Don't own them. Kripke, you genius, my hat's off to you!

A/N: Spoiler alert – starts after the ending of devil's trap, possibly AU.

The sirens grew nearer and nearer, but no one in the black Chevy Impala heard them. Two ambulances, accompanied by three other cars, all rushed to the side of the road. The paramedics were the firsts to come out of their vehicles, shouldering their gear, calling instructions to each other, assessing the situation before they actually got there. One of the cars, a red sedan, swerved, parking across the road and blocking it. Two men got out of it, carrying rifles. They hurried over to the truck, but the driver was long gone by then. Cursing, one of the men took out his cell phone and made a call.

A woman got out the other car, along with three other men, all carrying weapons. The men all hurried over to the Impala, and after making sure there was no immediate threat, started helping the paramedics. Another woman got out of the third car, a large blue RV, walking slowly towards the other woman.

"Don't you worry, sugar. He'll be alright." The first woman said, putting a hand on the other's shoulder. The other, a woman in her late twenties, gave a weak smile, took a deep breath and started her way to the Impala. She stopped before she could see the three unconscious men inside it, and looked back at the woman following her.

"You sure?" she asked in a trembling voice. The other woman smiled at her.

"Of course I'm sure, honey. They're all pretty banged up, but they'll be fine. He'll be fine."

"Missouri, I don't think I can…"

"Oh, nonsense, girl. You go there and you do what you came here to do. You bring that boy back and you take care of that nasty thing, or I swear I will slap you all the way back to New York." The younger woman attempted a smile, but it faded quickly, never reaching her eyes. "You can feel him, can't you?" Missouri asked, eyeing the woman carefully. "Such power… and he's only growing stronger." The younger woman nodded lightly, taking another deep breath and steeling herself as she turned to watch the paramedics taking the three unconscious Winchsters out of the wrack.

"Hey, Anna, you okay?" one of the men asked her. She couldn't have been more thankful it was so dark. Her hands were shaking, her heart was racing.

"Are they alive?" she asked the man instead.

"Looks like." He said, and Anna let out the breath she didn't even realize she was holding.

"What are you waiting for, girl?" Missouri was once again by her side. "Go on." Anna gave a slight nod and made her way to the crushed car.

"Man, who would do that to such a sweet ride?" she heard one of the paramedics say, "You know they're evil when they hurt a classic like that…" he went on. That actually brought a smile to Anna's lips. She vaguely remembered that car. She remembered it driving away, along with her hopes. Biting her lower lip, she followed Missouri Mosley, but she couldn't bring herself to look. Missouri gasped, looking away, and for a moment, Anna faltered. But it was time. She'd been looking for him for years. He was there, finally, he was within her reach again.

"Dear lord, look at him…" Missouri said in a broken voice, looking at Anna. "We have to get him to a hospital, now." She shook her head again as Anna came to stand by her side. "Such power… I don't know why he didn't see it coming…" she said, looking as they laid Sam onto a stretcher, and then looked at Anna's wide eyes. "What is it? Girl, what's wrong?" Missouri asked, "I know it looks bad, but Sam's a fighter, he'll…"

"It's not him…" Anna whispered shakily.

"Come again?" Missouri seemed shocked. And then she shook her head. "No, it's him. I'm sure of it. That's why I called you when they left Lawrence. He's the one, Anna." Anna pushed passed Missouri and crouched next to the bloodied Sam, touching her fingers to his forehead. She looked up at Missouri, her eyes welling up.

"It's not him." She said again. "I'm sure."

"I don't understand…" Missouri said, frowning, "I saw him, all the signs say… No, check again. I'm sure it's him." But Anna was already back on her feet. Time was running out. She should have never got out of hiding, she shouldn't have come. This Sam Winchester wasn't the one, he couldn't stop the demons that were after her, that were after them. With a heavy heart, Anna started back towards her RV, but something still nagged at her. He was still there. She could feel it. She felt it, felt him, from miles away.

"Damn it, we're losing him!" someone behind him shouted, "I lost the pulse! Quick, get the defibrillator!" Anna stopped, turning back. There was a commotion, too many people blocked her view, but she knew. She could tell. "It's not working! Again, clear!" and then she felt it. The demon. It was coming. It found her. It knew.

"Anna?" one of the two men who searched the truck came running. She looked at him. "We're getting calls from all over. It's coming." He said.

"Did you find anything?" she asked.

"No. Not yet." The man said. He put his hand on her shoulder. "We will. I promise. We'll find it. But you have to go. Now, you have to get out of here." He glanced back at the wreckage. "Look, there's nothing you can do for these guys. We'll get them to a hospital, but you've got to go, Anna!" She cried out when she felt a jolt go through her body. She would have fallen to the ground if the man hadn't caught her. "That's it, I'm getting you out of here. You're no good to us dead!" but she pushed him away. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. He was here. And the demon was closing in. She stumbled back towards the Impala.

"Anna?" Missouri called out to her, but she didn't even look at her. "Anna, if you're sure, if it's not Sam, than you have to leave. Girl, it will bleed you dry, and that's just the beginning of it!" but Anna didn't listen.

"It's him." She said in such small voice it was almost inaudible.

"Sam?" Missouri asked, making sure.

"No." Anna looked up at her, and then kneeled next to Dean, touching the bleeding gashes on his chest as the medics still tried to revive him. They got his pulse back, just barely, but he was slipping away again. "This one." She said, taking a knife out from the back of her Jeans. She looked up at Missouri again. "It's him." She said, cutting her hand and grimacing at the sudden, though expected, pain.

"Are you sure?" Missouri asked skeptically. Anna touched her bloody palm to the blood on Dean's chest, closing her eyes.

"I'm sure." She said, and then passed out.

TBC

A/N: So, what did you think? A review is a great way to make your opinion known…


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ahh, inspiration, what a great thing to have… Spoiler alert – starts after the ending of devil's trap, possibly AU.

Chapter two

Pain. That was the first thing that crossed his fuzzy mind. Pain, and nothing else. He tried to open his eyes. God, that shouldn't be that hard, should it? Just opening his eyes, it shouldn't be an effort, should it? But it was. For a moment he thought to just give up, let the darkness claim him once again, but something deep inside told him he couldn't. There was something he had to do, someone he had to look for, look after.

Dean forced his eyes open. The room was dark, to which he was thankful, but it didn't really matter. He couldn't bring his eyes to focus. God, it hurt. Every cell in his body screamed in pain. He could sense, more than see, that there was someone there with him. It was a strange feeling, a feeling of being home, even with the pain. Someone touched his hand, caressed his cheek. And then the darkness claimed him again.

* * *

What was that? That beeping sound… it was so annoying. Dean opened his eyes, looking around. Daylight came in through the cracks of the closed curtain; tiny specks of dust glinting in the sunlight. Where the hell was he? What was going on? He racked his brain, but nothing came. He didn't remember, and it only frustrated him more. There was something he had to do, there was no time to be lying around here… wherever here was. He looked down at himself. There were two IVs slowly dripping into his arm. By the bandages on his chest, arm and leg, he knew he should be in much more pain than he felt. Dean guessed it was the blessed work of one of the IVs. So he was in a hospital. And the little wires on his chest that connected to the machine by his side explained that annoying beeping sound. Must be bad if they had him hooked up to a heart monitor, he thought, but he just couldn't remember why. What happened? Why was he in a hospital? 

"You're awake." Dean blinked. It was an angel. Isn't that what they're supposed to look like? All shrouded in light and with a soft caressing voice like that? He couldn't quite see the angel, but he wasn't very comforted by its presence.

"Am I dead?" Dean croaked. Man, if he didn't know he was saying the words, he never would have recognized his own voice. He didn't even realize how sore his throat had been.

"No, you're not dead." The angel told him. Or was it an angel? Now that it wasn't standing just under the light, it seemed more like a nurse. And not a very cute one at that. Damn. "Here, let me help you. You must be thirsty." She said, nearing him with a glass in her hand. And then her brain was splattered everywhere. Dean yelped, the nurse's blood covering him. The heart monitor reacted to his racing heart.

"What the hell?" he demanded in a shaky voice. A young woman walked in the room, the smoking gun still in her hand. Her eyes darted around before finally landing on him. Dean winced at the pain in his chest as he tried to rise.

"Don't get up." The woman said softly, and Dean obeyed. Possibly because of the gun, but more likely because he suddenly couldn't breathe. What the hell was going on? The young woman, a short hair brunette about his age, closed the door behind her as she got in the room. She put another couple of bullets through the dead nurse's head, execution style.

"Who the fuck are you? What the hell's going on? What do you want from me?" Dean demanded, panicking. He tried his best to draw any piece of information from his brain, to try to explain what was going on, but came out blank. He couldn't remember a thing. The brunette tucked the gun in the back of her jeans and took something out of her pocket. A bag holding something white, but Dean couldn't make out what it was. He watched apprehensively as the woman spilled the white stuff by the window and around his bed. "Are you going to kill me, too?" Dean asked hoarsely. The woman gave him a slight smile, reaching out and taking a small bandage from a drawer in a nearby bedside table. It was the first time Dean realized there was another bed in the room. It seemed like someone slept in it, but it was empty at the moment. Dean shrunk back as the woman neared him, but she simply smiled at him and gently wiped the blood from his face.

"You should rest." She said. "You're not well yet."

"I'll get better a hell of a lot quicker if you let me out of here." Dean said quickly.

"I can't do that." The woman told him.

"Why not?" Dean demanded.

"Because it's not safe." She said, looking in his eyes.

"Not safe for me, or not safe for you?" Dean asked, and she reached out and caressed his cheek. He knew that touch. The woman's eyes were still on his.

"Same thing." She said softly.

"Who are you? What happened to me?" Dean asked, and winced in pain. The woman straightened.

"You're in pain." She said in a small voice, looking at the IV bag beside him. "You should go back to sleep, I'll get someone to up your meds." She added and started to leave.

"No, wait!" Dean said quickly. He had no idea what was going on, and it freaked him out. That woman just shot a nurse in cold blood without even blinking, but for some reason, he didn't want her to leave. What did it mean? What did it make him? Dean's heart was pounding. The woman turned to look at him. "Please…" she hesitated, looking at the dead woman on the floor, and then left. Dean cursed. He closed his eyes, trying his best to remember something, anything, but he just couldn't. He couldn't even remember his own name. But he just couldn't get rid of the feeling that someone else needed him right now. Maybe the person in the bed next to him? The bed that was now empty. Dean shuddered. Was whoever was in that bed also killed? What was this place? Who was this woman? Why wouldn't he remember? And what the hell was going on?

He didn't get a lot of time to think about that. A couple of minutes later the woman returned, accompanied by four other people. Two of them carried the dead nurse away, one started mopping the blood, and the other neared his bed. Dean swallowed, steeling himself for what's to come. The man, in his mid-fifties, wearing a white coat and scrubs, checked the IVs, changing one of the bags. He smiled at Dean, but the smile did little to reassure him.

"What's going on?" Dean demanded again.

"Here," the woman sat by his side. She supported him up, holding a glass of water to his lips. Dean looked apprehensively at her before taking a tiny sip. The cool liquid slid painfully down his dry throat, and he suddenly realized just how thirsty he was. He grabbed the glass, gulping the water, but the woman quickly took it from him. "Slow down." She said, but then brought the glass back to his lips as the man, the doctor – Dean realized, took his blood pressure and vitals.

"Please, tell me what's going on." Dean pleaded. The doctor gave the woman a questioning look, but the woman just smiled at Dean, caressing his cheek again.

"You were in a car accident." She said. Yeah, right. A car accident. That's why you blew that woman's brains out right in front of me, Dean thought skeptically. But there was something in that woman's eyes, in the way she looked at him… "You don't remember." It wasn't a question, but Dean still shook his head slightly. That was a mistake. The room started spinning. The woman pushed him down gently onto the pillows.

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

"Do you remember who you are?" the woman asked instead. She sounded serious, and the doctor by his side seemed very interested in his answer.

"No." Dean sighed, closing his eyes. He opened his eyes when he felt her lips press gently against his.

"You need to rest." She said softly. "Don't worry, it'll all come back." She said, looking at the doctor for confirmation. The doctor gave a slight nod, and she smiled at him again. "You're safe here." She said, but Dean wasn't so sure. His eyelids suddenly felt extremely heavy. The drugs, he realized. They were drugging him. He fought to stay awake, but lost.

TBC

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, I loved them! They're like jell-o, you know, always room for more... lol


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Pain. The mother of all headaches. He cursed, but no sound came out of his mouth. His throat felt dry. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve the pain, but it didn't help. Opening his eyes only made it worse. He took a deep breath and grimaced in pain. Closing his eyes, he tried to figure out what was going on. The demon, he remembered. It possessed dad. It hurt Dean, but then it was gone. They were on their way to the hospital. Opening his eyes, Sam was pretty sure they made it there, he just couldn't understand why he was the one lying in bed. He called out for Dean, but no voice came out. Turning his head slightly to the side proved to be impossible. Something was stopping him from moving his head. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and ran a mental list of his injuries. The headache seemed the worst. He was having some trouble focusing his eyes, but after blinking a few seconds, the room came to focus. Maybe a concussion. That could explain the headache, but why? Going farther down the list; his back – it was so sore. Someone must have punched him up real good. Maybe the demon caught up with them? The last bullet! Sam sucked in his breath. Did they have to use the last bullet to save him? That would be the second bullet wasted on him instead of the demon, and their last chance to kill it! Was that what happened? Someone jumped them or something? He tried calling for Dean again, his hoarse voice foreign to his ears. But Dean didn't answer, and Sam's heart began to speed up. There was something wrong. He could feel it. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, go back to his mental list of his injuries. His back hurt, a lot, and his right arm, too, but that's it. His legs didn't hurt one bit. Come to think about it… Sam sucked in his breath, panic washing over him. No, no, no, no! His heart was racing now, little beads of sweat trickling down his brow. He couldn't move his legs. He couldn't even feel them.

"Oh, God, no!" he cried out, fighting with all his might to move his legs, trying to move his head and see if he was successful, but his head was held in place. Only logical, if he broke his spine, Sam thought, but that thought only brought on a new wave of panic.

"Shh, relax, sugar. You need to calm down." A nurse was by his side. She was African-American, in her early fifties. Silver streaked her dark hair, pulled up in a tight bun. "You keep this up you're gonna hurt yourself, boy." She told him.

"I can't feel my legs!" Sam breathed, and the nurse touched his arm sympathetically.

"I know, sugar. You took quite a hit. You were a real mess when they brought you here." She said. "But don't worry just yet." She added. "Your x-rays don't show anything broken. Your back's really swollen, that's probably why you can't move your legs, but don't worry. The docs don't think it's gonna last. Probably just for a couple of days, until the swelling goes down." She said, disappearing behind him. Sam tried tilting his head back to look at her, but again, something stopped him. A neck brace. "You try not to move too much, boy. No reason making any damage permanent, is there?" the nurse's voice came from behind him and soon he could see her again as she helped him to some water. Sam coughed, choking on the water, but she helped him drink some more.

"My brother. And my dad, where are they?" Sam asked when he could breathe again.

"It's better if you tried to rest. You're gonna need all your strength if you want to get better." The nurse avoided the question, and Sam's heart somersaulted.

"My brother and my dad, are they okay? Are they here?" he asked again, fighting again to see anything to his sides. The nurse held his shoulders in place and Sam winced at the pain in his back.

"You really shouldn't move." The nurse said authoritatively, and then sighed. "Your daddy's in a bad shape." She said, taking a step back so that Sam would be able to see her better. "He's still in the ICU. He was really messed up when they brought him here. I can call, ask about him if you want, but you have to promise me you wouldn't try to move or do anything stupid like that." The nurse said. Sam looked at her. She didn't seem like she was about to say anything else. Oh, God, please, no. His stomach lurched.

"My brother?" Sam asked in a shaky voice. The nurse was quiet for a moment, and then said,

"He's gone." Sam's heart missed a beat. His eyes filled with tears. He started shaking. No. No, that was impossible! Dean couldn't be… There's no way! He can't be dead! "Oh, he's not dead," the nurse said quickly, seeing his reaction, and Sam let out a small whimper, tears falling from his eyes. "He's just… gone." The nurse added.

"What do you mean?" Sam mouthed the words, because no voice came out.

"They took him. They brought him here, waited just until we got him stabilized, and then took him." She said. Sam shook his head. That wasn't any less encouraging. Someone took his brother, someone took Dean. He was beat to hell even before the accident, and now… And it was like a light went on in Sam's head. The car accident. The truck ramming them off the road. He remembered. Man, Dean's gonna be pissed off that he ruined his car. Dean!

"What do you mean, 'they took him'? Who took him?" Sam demanded.

"Boy, you're going to have to relax, or I'll be forced to do something about it." The nurse cautioned him, again forcing his shoulders down.

"Who took my brother?" Sam yelled, but it came out more like a strangled rasp.

"I don't know," the nurse said, "police, FBI, I don't know. They had badges, and they took him. Had med-evac and everything." She shrugged. "They were in a real hurry, too. Couldn't wait for us to get that boy stabilized." She added, disappearing behind Sam again. Sam closed his eyes, his throat and chest constricting. Someone had Dean. The demon, probably. It probably possessed some cops and took Dean, maybe to be used as leverage to get the colt. But why? It could have killed them all right there, why take Dean? Why not take him? Sam closed his eyes. His head exploding with pain and reeling with the bad news. He didn't even feel the prick of the needle in his arm, he just felt himself growing more and more groggy, until he fell asleep.

* * *

Two days later, when the feeling started to return to his legs, they allowed him to get out of the bed and visit his dad. A couple of nurses eased him into a wheelchair and guided him to the forth floor. John was no longer in the ICU, he was moved to a regular room, but was still pretty heavily sedated. He barely even stirred the entire time Sam sat by his bed. 

Sam was sedated too, most of the time. He hated that. There was no time for them to be lying around. Dean was missing. Who knows who had him, or what shape his brother was in? Sam would have stormed out of the hospital in search of his brother two days ago, or right now, if he could only stand on his feet for longer than it took him to fall face down on the floor. It frustrated him. He didn't know what to do. He had to go after Dean, he had to find his brother, and fast, but he couldn't even stand up on his own, and his father wasn't really there even when he was conscious. Sam couldn't help but feeling time was running out. He screamed in anger, smashing a drug-tray to the floor, the medicine flying all over. They kept him restrained after that, and it only frustrated him more.

The first call came that night, or rather, the next morning. It was just past four A.M, anyway. Sam jumped as a phone in his room rang, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was completely immobilized. A nurse came in the room a couple of seconds later, picking up the phone and bringing it over to him.

"We don't usually allow this," she told him in a hushed voice, not wanting to wake the other patients in the room up, "but I think you want to take this call." She added, putting the phone to his ear. Sam looked questioningly at her, but she just smiled kindly at him.

"Hello?" Sam asked, his mind racing. Who could be calling him? Dean? The demon?

"Sam Winchester?" it was a woman. He didn't recognize the voice.

"Who is this?" Sam demanded. There was a slight pause, and Sam's heart raced. "Who are you? Where's my brother?" Sam shouted and was quickly hushed by the nurse, who gave him a disapproving glare.

"I just thought you'd want to know," the woman said in a small voice, "he's going to be fine. They told me there's no permanent damage." She added.

"You tell me where my brother is, or I swear I'll hunt you down and…" there was no reason to continue his threat. The woman hung up on him. Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. He shouldn't be lying in a hospital, he should be out there looking for Dean! Sam let out a frustrated cry, fighting his restraints, and then suddenly the windows shuttered, showering him and the others in the room with shards of glass.

* * *

The second call came a couple of days after that. His father was more coherent by then, and he took the news of Dean's abduction hard. Sam knew his dad would have been out of the hospital by now if he could, but neither of them were in any condition to leave, no matter how much they wanted to. Sam hated it, hated how frustrated he felt, how worried and lost and afraid he felt. He just had too much time on his hands to think of all the worst case scenarios, and he hated that there was nothing he could do about it. 

The nurses called the cops at his reaction, figuring something must be wrong if he kept screaming someone took his brother. The cops tried their best to sound sympathetic, to help, but really, what could Sam tell them? Dean was legally dead, he couldn't ask the cops to go looking for a dead person. And what was he supposed to say when they asked if his brother had any enemies? Yeah, a bunch of pissed off spirits, a poltergeist or two, and oh, yeah, the demon that killed our mom and my girlfriend didn't take the fact that my brother killed its kids too well, should that count? Sam had to convince a psychologist that he wasn't completely insane after that. Luckily, his dad helped, giving some made up story about Dean being in the witness protection program under another alias, and suggesting someone took him so they could better protect him. The cops seemed to buy that.

This call came at noon, just as Sam was wheeled back to his own room. The nurse came by quickly, helping him to the bed, and then gave him the phone.

"It's the third time she's called in the last hour." The nurse informed him, cautioning him not to move too much or they would restrain him again. Sam put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked, swallowing hard. The woman's voice sounded smaller this time, exhausted even.

"Sam?" she asked, making sure.

"Where's my brother?" Sam demanded, the hand holding the phone shaking.

"He finally woke up today." She said, and sounded truly relieved at that. "I thought he might want to talk to you, but he passed out again." The woman said.

"Where is he? Is he okay?" Sam asked, his voice strangled.

"I hope so." She said. It seemed like she wanted to say something more, but she didn't.

"Listen to me, you bitch," Sam said venomously, "you hurt my brother, and I'll make you wish you were never born, you hear me?" he cried, ignoring the shocked look from the nurse by his side. There was no answer from the other side of the line. "You tell me where my brother is right now, or I'll make you pay, bitch, you hear me?" Sam demanded.

"Calm down, Sam." She said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Don't you tell me to calm down!" Sam snapped, "Who are you? What do you want with Dean? Where is he?" he demanded, but all Sam could hear was the click sound when she hung up on him again.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I love them! I would have answered you all, but it was that, or an update, so I figured you'd prefer the update... Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Chapter Four

"Sammy!" Dean's eyes shot open, his heart racing. "Sammy!" he cried again, trying to get up. He winced, letting out a grunt of pain. And then someone was there, pushing him gently back against the bed.

"It's okay. You're okay." She said, looking worriedly at him. He recognized her. He knew who she was. Only, he didn't.

"What's happening?" Dean breathed, "Where's Sammy?" the woman gave him a strange look.

"Do you remember?" she asked after a long moment, "Do you know who Sam is?" she asked. Dean let out a deep breath, shaking his head slightly and closing his eyes. He could feel her fingers caressing his cheek and opened his eyes again. She was smiling at him. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn't quite figure out what. "Do you know me?" she tried, the hope in her voice was unmistakable. Dean frowned.

"Should I?" he asked. She lowered her eyes, her smile faltering, but then she looked at him again.

"Do you remember me? From before?" she asked again.

"I remember you from yesterday." Dean said uncertainly. He remembered some nurse's brain splattering all over him. He shuddered, wishing that was one of the things he _didn't_ remember. The woman smiled at him again, taking his hand in hers.

"My name is Anna." She said, "Anna Scott." She added, looking for any kind of reaction, any hint that he recognized her. Dean shook his head slightly.

"I'm sorry…" he started, but she shook her head, putting a finger to his lips.

"It's okay. It's been a long time." She said, running her fingers through his short hair fondly. "Can I get you anything?" she asked.

"Why can't I remember?" Dean asked in turn.

"You must have hit your head harder than I thought." She said, walking away from him. Dean winced as he pushed himself up, following her with his eyes. She sat on the bed opposite him. So she was the other person in his room. That would explain why she was always the first one there whenever he opened his eyes, no matter how briefly.

"In the accident." Dean said flatly. He couldn't remember any car accident. He couldn't remember anything. Anna looked at him, but didn't say anything. She had a cell phone in her hand. Who was she calling? He still had no idea what was going on, but so far, he didn't like what he saw. She might be nice to him, but that didn't change the fact she killed someone right in front of him. And she was there to keep an eye on him, that couldn't be a good thing, could it? He couldn't remember, but he was pretty sure it wasn't a good thing.

"Room 1412, please," he heard her say, and tried to prop himself up, "no, don't get up." She said, quickly coming to stand next to him. "I can get you anything you need, you really shouldn't push yourself just yet." She said, and the worry in her voice sounded genuine enough. Dean sank back in bed, closing his eyes. "Hey, how are you feeling?" Dean opened his eyes, looking questioningly at Anna, only to realize she wasn't talking to him. He heard someone yelling at the other end of the phone, but couldn't quite make out the words. "Please, calm down." Anna said, but the yelling continued. She glanced at Dean, and hung up the phone. "I'll get you something to drink. Any requests?" she asked. He cocked a brow.

"Beer." He said and she laughed.

"I'll take that as a sign that you're feeling better." She said, kissing his forehead, and then got out of the room, only to return a couple of minutes later with a pitcher of water in one hand and a tray in the other. She put the tray on the small bedside table and poured him a glass of water. Dean thanked her, drinking greedily. "Think you can handle something a little less watery?" she asked, taking the glass from him. Dean laid back, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He was tired. He was always tired. "I brought you some soup. My uncle made it, it's really good." She said, but when Dean opened his eyes to look at her, she had her back to him. He noticed the cell phone in her hand again. She glanced at him and smiled, but didn't say anything. Probably waiting for whoever it was to pick up, Dean realized. They did, a second later.

"Have you calmed down yet?" Anna asked, and this time Dean didn't hear any yelling. "Good." Anna said. "He's awake. I thought he might want to hear your voice." She said, and Dean raised a brow. "You should know," Anna went on, "he doesn't remember." There was a small pause, and then Anna brought the phone to his ear. Dean looked questioningly at her, but she just smiled and nodded her head at him. He took a deep breath.

"Hello?" he asked, watching Anna's reaction, but she simply sat by his side, stroking his hand gently. There was no answer from the other side of the line, just some strangled voice, and Dean frowned. "Hello?" he asked again.

"Dean…" the voice sounded strangely familiar. "Oh, God, Dean, are you okay?"

"I think so." Dean said, though he wasn't so sure.

"Where are you?" the man on the other side of the line asked.

"I don't know." Dean answered truthfully.

"Well, are they treating you okay? Are they hurting you?" the man on the other side asked quickly, but didn't allow Dean time to answer. "Don't worry, Dean. Dad and I, we're coming for you, you hear me? So just… just hold on, okay, we're coming for you." Dean frowned.

"Who are you?" he asked, glancing at Anna. There was a long pause.

"It's Sam, don't you remember?" the man's voice sounded broken. Dean bit his lower lip.

"Sammy?" he asked.

"Yeah, Dean. It's Sammy."

"Was… was there an accident? A car accident?" Dean asked, eying Anna.

"Yes. Yes, do you remember?" Sam sounded hopeful.

"No." Dean said, sighing. "That's just what they told me. I wasn't sure."

"Who told you? Dean, where are you?" Sam inquired.

"I don't know." Dean said, feeling helpless and starting to freak out again. Anna squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Where are you?" Dean asked.

"I'm in a hospital. Me and dad. But we're okay. Don't you worry about us, Dean, we're coming for you, okay? We're gonna get you back. I won't let anyone hurt you, you hear me?"

"Why would anyone want to hurt me?" Dean asked, his heart hammering. For a moment, he thought Anna was about to take the phone from him, but she didn't.

"Dean, listen to me. Look around you, what do you see? Can you tell where you are? Where they're holding you?" Sam asked urgently. Dean looked around him. It looked like a hospital room, and that's exactly what he told Sam. "Well, who's there with you? How many?" Sam pressed.

"One, right now. But there are others, I guess." Dean said.

"Just one?" Sam sounded shocked, "The woman, she's there right now? Listening?" Dean glanced at Anna.

"Yeah."

"And she's not trying to take the phone away or anything?" Sam asked, a little confused.

"Why would she take the phone?" Dean asked, "Am I in trouble?" Anna squeezed his hand reassuringly, getting up. She rested her back against the wall, closing her eyes. She was exhausted and worried, and even a little scared. Dean didn't even remember who he was, how could he possibly remember what she needed him to remember? The phone she had given him was untraceable, but still, demons had their own ways of tracking people. She needed him to end the call, but she understood why he didn't. She figured his family must be out of their minds worrying about him. She tried to hint Dean that it was time to hang up. He seemed confused enough as it was. But then the door opened. Anna didn't stop to think. Her gun was drawn and ready before the door was even fully open.

"The hell, Anna!" her uncle yelped, raising his hands to show her he wasn't going to do anything. But it didn't matter. Demons could possess anyone. She wasn't taking any chances.

"Out!" she commanded.

"Anna!"

"I will shoot you, Tom!" she said, her voice steady, authoritative.

"Fine." The man said, walking backwards slowly, "But we need to have a little talk." He said, just as authoritatively. Anna glared at him. "Now, Anna." He said. She glanced at Dean, who went white in the face, and let out a short breath.

"One minute." She said coolly. She hated to leave Dean alone, but she wasn't taking any chances. She had no idea how that bitch got to him so quickly, but she wasn't going to make that mistake again.

Dean hung up the phone, remotely aware that Sam was still talking. He was alone. He was pretty sure it was the first time he had been alone in a long time. This could be his chance. At the very least, he could eavesdrop on the conversation, try to get some more information. He grimaced as he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had to wait a moment for the world to stop spinning. Careful not to take the IVs out, he grabbed the stand on which they hung and started his way to the door. He made it half way before he started wishing he hadn't gotten out of bed. He was sweating by the time he got to the wall opposite the bed, all thoughts of making it all the way to the door long gone from his mind. He could still make out the argument going on on the other side of the door. Tom wasn't pleased with something Anna did, probably with the fact she was spending so much time with him, Dean guessed. Tom yelled at her to get some rest, saying something about her spreading herself too thin, but she kept telling him she knew better than him what she was capable of, and that he should just shut up and leave her alone. At that point, the door flung open and Anna came back inside. She seemed stunned to see Dean out of bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, a worried expression on her face.

"Bathroom." Dean breathed. He let his head drop against the wall. A smile crept onto Anna's lips. She closed the door, leaning against it.

"You think you can make it by yourself?" she asked. There was no mockery in her voice, just genuine interest.

"Give me a second." He grunted. And she did, but he did accept her outstretched arm, leaning heavily on her on the way back to the bed. He slumped down, completely exhausted, and Anna came to sit by his side, brushing a stray hair from his brow. "Who are you?" Dean asked when he could breathe again.

"I told you, my name is Anna." She said, looking worried and anxious.

"No, I mean…" Dean shook his head slightly. "Anna, are you the bad guy, or the good guy?" he asked. Anna seemed stunned for a moment, and the grinned.

"Neither." She said, leaning close to his face, "I'm the girl." She smirked. "Dean, I'll never hurt you." she said seriously, "You know that, right?" she asked. Dean nodded slightly. He didn't know why, but he believed her. "How are your dad and your brother?" she asked a couple of minutes later.

"They're in a hospital." Dean said tiredly, closing his eyes. He could feel the bed creak a little when Anna got up, and he opened his eyes, watching as she kicked her shoes off and slumped down on the other bed, massaging her aching neck. "Anna?" she looked questioningly at him, rather surprised he was still awake, and quickly got up, walking over to him. "Thank you." Dean said in a small voice. She caressed his hair.

"For what?" Anna asked.

"For Sam, for calling him. For being here." Dean said, looking in her eyes. She smiled at him. He felt Anna's lips against his again before he fell asleep.

TBC

A/N: Keep the reviews coming, and I might update daily!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Dean sat in the small armchair they brought over the day before, watching Anna sleep. She seemed small and pale and completely exhausted. She didn't even stir in her sleep. There was a very wide ring of salt around her bed, Tom having drawn it earlier. Dean didn't get it, didn't understand what the salt was for, but Tom wouldn't answer his questions, just remind him over and over that if Anna asked, he was never there.

His memory was beginning to come back, in terrifying nightmares and horrifying flashbacks. The only good memories he had were those of his brother, but most of them seemed to be from their childhood. The most vivid memory was completely incoherent and was followed by an embarrassing panic attack. He couldn't explain it. He didn't understand it himself. He wasn't even sure if it _was_ a memory, and really hoped it wasn't. The eyes. He remembered the eyes the most. Two sets of eyes. Yellow ones, looking at him with hate and disdain. And the other ones, the ones that really scared him. The bright green eyes, glinting like no human eyes should. Those looked at him in amusement, the mere stare causing him pain. Real, physical pain, that had him screaming and gasping for breath, and finally passing out.

Dean tried to remember Anna, but he couldn't. He had some memories of his father, and quite a few of his brother, but none of her. He remembered other women, there seemed to be a lot of them, but he didn't remember Anna. He straightened in his seat as the door opened and Tom popped his head in.

"She still sleeping?" he asked in a hushed tone. Dean nodded. "Good." Tom said, getting in the room. He carried over a large tray, bringing it over to Dean. The food smelled so good it made his mouth water. "How are you feeling?" Tom asked as he pulled a chair over to be used as a table to set the tray on.

"Better." Dean said. "I'm starting to remember stuff, but it's all… I don't know, weird."

"Yeah?" Tom asked, eying him. "You remember Anna yet?" he asked impatiently, and Dean shook his head. Tom shook his disapprovingly.

"Tom?" Dean asked, stopping Tom as he was about to leave. The older man stopped, looking questioningly at him. "Can I get a paper or something? I mean, seriously, who doesn't have a TV?" Tom glared at him. "Come on, man, I'm bored out of my mind here." Dean tried, "Hey, maybe I'll even see something in the paper that would jog my memory. What do you say?" Tom grunted something under his breath and left the room. Dean sighed. Well, at least he tried, he thought as he started on his dinner.

* * *

Sam thanked the man who had been helping them and made his way slowly to his father. He was still using the crutches the hospital had loaned him, still a little unsteady on his feet. His father was popping pain killers like they were bubble gums, but they couldn't waste anymore time in the hospital. They just couldn't. 

Sam and John followed the rows of cars in the impound lot, heading in the direction the man had told them. There was a whole section of wracked cars, and they searched for the Impala among the others.

"Dad, over here." Sam cried, hastening his step as he moved toward what was left of the cherry black, 1967 Chevy Impala, his brother's pride and joy. Sam grimaced at the sight before him. That would cost a fortune to repair. He wondered if there was a single thing that wasn't broken. He leaned over, looking inside. Splotches of dry blood stained the upholstery, it would have to be replaced as well. Sam was actually taken aback by the amount of blood, especially in the backseat. His chest constricted and he had to remind himself that Dean was still alive. Somewhere. He straightened, looking at his dad standing at the back of the car. The look on John's face made Sam's heart skip a beat. "Dad?" John didn't look up at him, his eyes still on the trunk. Sam trotted towards his father, coming to see what his dad was looking so intently at. Sam sucked in his breath. The Impala's trunk was empty, the lock on the secret compartment broken. It was all gone. The weapons, their things, nothing was left. Sam felt himself starting to get dizzy and then remembered that breathing was a good thing to do if he wanted to stay conscious. "It's gone? All of it?" Sam breathed, wide eyed. John looked back at him. Sam had never seen his dad like that, so hurt and desperate and _helpless_. He looked like he was about to cry.

"The colt, too." John said in a broken voice. Sam had to lean against one of the other cars, his legs refusing to support his weight any longer. They both stared at the empty trunk forever, it seemed, before Sam cleared his throat, pushing the tears back.

"I'll go talk to the person in charge, get the car back. Maybe they even have a garage or something here, so they can start fixing it." He said, pushing himself back to his feet. John gave him a shocked look.

"We're not taking the car." He said.

"What? Dad, of course we are." Sam said, staring at his dad as if he were mad.

"What's the point?" John said, "It's gone." He said in a broken voice, and Sam wasn't sure if he was talking about the car or the gun.

"The point is that Dean loves this car. I mean, if he were here and he saw it like that…"

"But he's not here, is he?" John snapped, glaring at Sam. "As far as we know, he could be dead by now." His father's words hit him harder then the truck did. He shook his head in disbelief.

"No. No, Dean's not dead. I told you, I talked to him…" Sam started, only to be cut off by his father again.

"That was over a week ago, Sam!" Sam lowered his eyes, biting his lower lip to stop it from trembling as tears started to fall from his eyes.

"Don't say that," he said in a strangled voice, not looking up at his dad, "he's still alive. He has to be."

TBC

A/N: Okay, so not much action in this one, but some important stuff I had to get out of the way. I'll try to update later today, and hey, you know the trick, the more replies the quicker the update.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Okay, I promised I'd update quicker, so here it is! And thanks so much for those great reviews! Keep it up and you will be rewarded... lol

Chapter Six

"Mornin' sunshine." Anna rubbed her eyes, blinking the sleep away. She was still tired. "How'd you sleep?" she sat up, her mind still a little slow, and looked at Dean. His smile brought a grin to her lips.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. He looked much better. It was about time, too.

"Bored." Dean answered, and she grinned, getting up from her bed. "When are you springing me out of here anyway?" he asked as she walked to the bathroom. "Hey, you okay?" Dean asked as she got out. She was still pale, and dark circles were starting to form under her eyes. She smiled at him.

"You ate something?" she asked instead. He hated it that she didn't answer his questions. He was fairly certain he could remember much more if anyone bothered to answer his questions.

"Yeah. There's some left over, if you want." He said, getting slowly to his feet. He could move around quite freely now, as long as he did it slow enough. Anna slumped back down on her bed, running her hands through her hair. Her time was running out. More were coming. More people around her became possessed. It was getting closer. Keeping herself alive and safe was a full time job on the best of days, but with Dean here, she might as well have sent out invitations. If he didn't remember soon, it wouldn't matter anymore. She couldn't keep him there. It wasn't safe anymore, and he seemed to be doing well enough. Dean sat down next to her, hooking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hey, Anna, you don't look so good." He observed. She grinned.

"Thanks. That's exactly what every girl wants to hear." She said.

"You know what I meant." Dean said quickly, and she smiled at him. She liked that he was worried about her. It helped to keep her hopes up. She knew it was probably because she was practically the only person he got to see, the only person he interacted with, but still, she had to cling to something.

"I'm fine." She lied, a tired smile on her face. "Did you remember anything else?" she asked, and he nodded, pulling her closer. For a moment, hope ignited in her.

"I remember Sammy. I think… we were on a road trip or something. With our dad." His voice trailed off. Anna nodded slightly, pushing herself up. He never asked her to call his family again, and she didn't bring it up. It was dangerous enough without doing anything stupid. Just because Missouri had assured her they were good people didn't mean she trusted them. She will never trust them, never trust his father. Even after all this time, she still remembered. She still resented him, still blamed him for what happened. Dean watched her as she left the room, only to come back a few minutes later carrying a small package. She tossed it his way and he raised a brow. "Go ahead." She said, slumping back down on the bed. She laid back, staring at the ceiling as Dean opened the package, pulling the clothes out. He looked questioningly at her. "Well, you have to wear something, don't you? Something other than these sweats. You know, something a little more presentable." She said, closing her eyes and putting a hand to her temple, feeling the beginning of a headache.

"Why? Who are you going to present me to?" he asked, but still took his sweatshirt off, pulling the T-shirt she brought him on, and then pulling a second shirt, a longer one, over the T-shirt. Anna didn't answer him. He didn't really expect her to. She let out a small sigh and got up. "These are the clothes they brought me in with?" Dean asked, examining the jacket and the jeans as Anna reached for the door. She turned to look at him.

"You weren't really wearing much of anything when they brought you here. They had to cut them off in the emergency room." She said, not a sliver of a smile on her lips. Dean stared at her, but she just opened the door and left him to get dressed.

* * *

Anna returned half an hour later. Dean couldn't remember her ever leaving his side for that long. It was strange, he actually missed her. He blamed that on the fact that he didn't see anyone else and that he was bored. She changed her clothes, too, wearing a fresh pair of low-cut jeans, and a tight shirt with a sweatshirt on top. She wasn't smiling when she came in. In fact, it looked like she'd been crying. 

"What's wrong?" Dean asked tentatively, but she didn't answer. She reached out both her hands in front of her, in two fists.

"Choose." She said, looking at him. Dean raised a brow. He started asking her what this was all about but she just repeated herself, a little impatiently this time. Dean stared at her for a moment, and then tapped on her left hand, choosing it. She opened her hand, palm up, to show him that it was empty. "You lose." she said, "You're riding shotgun." She added showing him the keys in her other hand.

"We're driving somewhere?" Dean asked.

"You're afraid to fly, aren't you?" he was surprised at the edge in her voice, the underlined irritation. He touched her cheek, but she recoiled from his touch.

"Anna, what's wrong?" Dean asked her again, but she turned her back to him.

"Well, are you coming?" she asked, opening the door again.

"No." Dean said slowly, frowning. She turned to look at him. "Where are we going?" Dean demanded.

"I'm taking you home." Anna said, looking at him, and then quickly looking away.

"And where's that?" Dean still didn't move. She sighed exasperatedly.

"I don't care. Wherever your family is. We'll know more when we're on the way." She snapped. It was strange, the way she was acting. He didn't like it. There was something wrong, something she wasn't telling him. Not that she was telling him anything anyway, but this was different. This felt wrong. He wasn't supposed to leave, not yet, he was pretty sure of that. He wanted to see his family again, sure, but Dean just couldn't get rid of the feeling that something wasn't right. It wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"On our way where, Anna?" Dean demanded.

"Dean, I'm done playing." She glanced at him. "I don't have time for that. You can come with me, or I can get you a plane ticket. Your choice." She said. She didn't wait for him to answer before she walked out.

Dean hesitated a second before he started following her more slowly. It was the first time he had stepped out of the room. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't locked, but for some reason, it felt safe to be there, with Anna. He was surprised to see he wasn't in a hospital. It looked like a regular apartment in a regular apartment house. Anna didn't use the elevator, so Dean followed her down the stairs, leaning heavily against the rail. The spiraling staircase made him dizzy.

"Anna, please, just wait a minute, will you?" he breathed, wiping the sweat from his brow. She looked up at him, and for a moment, the concern was back in her eyes. She climbed back up to where he slumped down on one of the steps.

"You okay?" she asked, eying him carefully.

"No." Dean grunted. "Why are you mad at me?" he demanded.

"I'm not mad at you." Anna said simply.

"Yes, you are." Dean said, trying to catch her eyes, but she looked away. "Is it because I can't remember you?" he asked.

"Look, we're wasting time. I need to get you back to your family." She said.

"Why?" Dean demanded. "Why not just call them to pick me up here, or get someone else to take me, or hell, even get me a cab?" but Anna wouldn't even look at him, much less answer his question. "What did I do, Anna?" Dean asked in a small voice. She let out a sigh, looking at him.

"It doesn't matter." She said simply. "We're in a hurry."

"Why?" Dean demanded, looking at her pleadingly. "Anna, please…"

"Because I have other things to do!" she snapped. "What'd you think, that I don't have a life?" Dean frowned, hurt, and bit his lip, lowering his eyes. "Come on. We have to get going. I need to be somewhere and I need to get you to your family before I get there." She said and started back down the stairs. Dean followed her slowly. The air became denser as they got to the underground parking lot. Anna scoured it with her eyes, heading for a red car three rows to their left. She opened the passenger door for him and waited until he slumped inside before turning to the driver side and getting in. The engine came to life with the switch of the key and the car left skid marks as it leaped out of the parking lot and out onto the street. Dean cursed, bracing himself and putting his seatbelt on.

"Watch it, will you?" he said, "And slow down, I just had a car accident, I'm not really looking forward to another one." He grunted. But Anna just turned the radio on and sped up, completely ignoring a stop sign.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Many of you keep asking me who Anna is, and what's going on. My answer is simple – keep reading and you'll find out… I've actually already written a couple more chapters, but they still need editing, so for now, here's the next one.

Chapter Seven

"So, what's really going on, Anna? What are we running from?" Dean asked a couple of hours later, breaking the silence between them. Anna hasn't spoken to him once since they got in the car. She glanced at him, but quickly returned her eyes to the road. A good thing, considering how fast she was driving. Dean was truly amazed no police car had stopped them by now. He looked at her intently. "We are running from something though, right? Or do you always drive like there's someone on your tail, trying to kill you?" Anna kept her eyes on the road, but Dean could see her tensing.

"I always drive like that." She said after a while, surprising him.

"Well, would you mind slowing down a little? I want to still be alive when we get there." Dean said gruffly. He was getting tired of her new attitude. Anna glanced at him again, and then checked the rear view mirror.

"You will be." She said, changing the station on the radio.

"Are you really taking me back to my family?" Dean finally asked. He trusted her, but there was something different about her. She looked at him longer this time before returning her eyes to the road ahead.

"Yes." She said, not looking at him, "I told you I was." Dean watched her intently for a moment.

"And then what?" he asked, "What happens after that, Anna?" he could see her knuckles going white on the steering wheel, but she quickly regained her calm. She gave him a quick glance.

"I don't know." She shrugged, "You go on living your life, I guess."

"And you?" Dean demanded, but she didn't answer. "You're going to leave, aren't you?"

"I don't know," she sighed, looking at him, "that's up to you."

"Well, I don't want you to leave." Dean said, crossing his arms across his chest and then winced. His chest was still a little tender. They already took the stitches out, and it seemed like there wasn't going to be much scarring, but it still hurt sometimes.

"That's not what I meant." Anna said in a small voice. Dean watched her, studying her face, the tension that was suddenly in her body. He knew what she meant. He still didn't want her to leave.

"So if I don't remember you by the time we get there, you're just gonna split? Just like that?" Dean asked, "And I'll never see you again?" Anna gave a slight nod.

"Probably." She said in a small voice. Dean shook his head, biting his lower lip and stared out the window for a while. _No pressure_, he thought.

"Then why won't you talk to me?" he demanded, a little angry, "Why won't you tell me? Why won't you help me remember?" he accused.

"Because!" she snapped at him, "Because if you don't remember, than I don't want you to!"

"Oh, don't give me that chick crap!" Dean snapped, irritated.

"Look, I'm just trying to protect you, alright?" she said exasperatedly.

"From what?" Dean demanded, "What the hell happened, Anna? When did we meet? Why did we break up?" he yelled at her. He wanted answers, and her looking away wasn't the right answer. "Answer me!" he cried. But she didn't. She didn't speak to him again for a long time, and Dean was left alone with his thoughts.

* * *

She drove for twelve hours straight, stopping only twice to get gas and take a bathroom break. Dean was growing more and more restless. This just wasn't right. She barely talked to him, she drove like someone was catching up with them, and she wouldn't tell him where they were going. More and more he found himself suspicious of her. She kept telling him to just go to sleep, but he didn't want to. He wanted to know what was going on, but the gentle rocking of the car and the lack of conversation finally wore him down, and he dozed off. 

"Dean, wake up." Dean opened a reluctant eye, peeking around. It was dark outside. The car was parked in front of a motel. He opened his eyes, looking around, making a deep voice from deep in his throat as he stretched.

"What time is it?" he asked. Anna looked terrible, and for some reason, even though he was really angry with her, he just wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her.

"It's just after ten." She said in a tired voice. "I got us a room, and there's a restaurant across the street." She said, reaching her hand to caress his cheek, but stopping herself at the last minute. Dean groaned, getting out of the car, and stretched his cramped muscles. "It sounded like a good dream." Anna noted and Dean blinked, looking at her. She smiled. "You were talking in your sleep. Well, mumbling anyway, I couldn't understand a word. But you were smiling." She said.

"I don't remember." Dean said. He was really tired of saying that.

"Hungry?" she asked him. There was a hint of her old self back in her voice, but she still seemed tense. Dean nodded. He was starving.

The restaurant was nice, with small tables and candles and soft music. They had to wait to be seated, and Dean suddenly realized he had no money. When he suggested they just get something out of a vending machine, she laughed, telling him not to worry about the money and just have anything he wanted. It felt a little strange, but he still nodded his thanks. They had steak and mashed potatoes and string beans with gravy. It could have been a great date if only she'd played along. She wanted to, Dean could tell that she wanted to. More than once she had reached out to touch him, to stroke his arm or caress his cheek, but she always drew back. She told him nothing about herself, and was very careful about that. With the huge gaping hole where Dean's memory once was, they kept the conversation light and meaningless, but somehow still managed to have fun.

The motel room seemed clean enough. It had two large beds and a newly remodeled bathroom. Anna gave the shower a coveting look.

"Go ahead." Dean said, cocking his head at the bathroom. She hesitated. Dean flopped down on the bed closest to the door, finding the remote and turning the TV on.

"You can go first if you want," Anna offered, "I have a change of clothes in the car." Dean shook his head, resting against the headboard.

"No, it's okay, go ahead." He said. He watched as she got out to the car and brought over a large bag, putting it on the floor between the beds. She took out some fresh clothes and asked him again if he were sure he didn't want to shower first. Dean just rearranged his pillow, closing his eyes. He didn't have to talk either.

Dean felt himself drifting off and sat up. He didn't want to sleep. He could hear the water running in the shower and started fumbling for the remote. And then he noticed the car keys on the small nightstand between the two beds. He hesitated. On the one hand, he really liked Anna, he didn't want to leave her, but on the other, he just couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong. She seemed different somehow. Nervous, tired, whatever it was, she wasn't talking to him. She didn't even touch him, didn't tell him where they were heading. Another second of hesitation, and then he grabbed the keys and quickly left.

Glancing over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't after him, Dean got in the car and started it. He drove around for a while, until he realized he had no idea where he was going. He stopped the car by a payphone and just sat there for a while. Glancing down, he saw some change where the ashtray should have been. Pocketing it, Dean got out of the car. He held the phone to his ear and just stared at the dial. A number would be good. It could be something. He bit his lip. _Damn it_! He nearly punched the phone. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to concentrate, to think, but he couldn't remember. _Oh, screw it. No more thinking. Much good it did me so far_, Dean thought and reached for the dial, letting his fingers run on the numbers, dialing automatically, not even recognizing the number. There was a dialing tone and then a voice message picked up. '_This is John Winchester. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean. 866-907-3235_'. Dean hung up, but then changed his mind. He slipped another quarter into the slot and dialed the number again, this time leaving a short, confused message. _Well, that went great_, Dean thought. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, dialing a different number. It was a wrong number. Cursing, Dean tried his luck again. He had only two quarters left. The first one was lost on another dead end. The second one hit home.

"Hello?" the voice was familiar, though somewhat dreary. Dean racked his mind, trying to remember where he knew that voice from.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, not really sure.

"Dean!" okay, now he was sure. "How are you? You okay?" Sam sounded worried.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm feeling a lot better. Just that little pesky memory thing." Dean said, smirking, feeling a little self conscious.

"Where the hell are you, man? You have any idea? Did they tell you anything?" Sam asked urgently.

"Yeah, um, actually I'm in someplace called Polk in Missouri." Dean said, his eyes shifting around at the people passing by. He had the sudden feeling that he should hang up and get the hell out of there.

"Polk? That's just a few hours away! Do you have any idea where they're holding you?" Sam asked, excited.

"That's just it, Sammy, no one's holding me." Dean said.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked. Dean licked his lips, hesitating.

"They said I could leave." He said. He could practically see the wheels turning in Sam's head. His brother made a few indistinct sounds before talking again.

"Well, um, okay, I guess. You're okay, that's the important thing." There was a moment of silence, and then Sam went on. "It doesn't matter, we'll figure it out later. For now, let's just… let's just take what we can, okay?" he asked, "Where are you? Dad and I can come get you." Dean hesitated. It didn't seem right. Something wasn't right. His instincts screamed at him to get out of there. "Dean?"

"Huh?"

"Where are you?" Sam asked again. Dean bit his lip.

"I can't tell you." He said at last.

"What? Why? They have you locked someplace…?"

"No, no, no one has me locked anywhere it's just…" Dean looked around him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. "I'm sorry, Sammy." He said, hanging up.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Ok, some of you have been getting lazy, not much incentive to go on, and I already have a writer's block (had to toss a chapter out the window because a vicious plot bunny bit me, the damn thing!). So please, read and review!

Chapter Eight

Dean leaned against the hood of the car, hesitating. On the one hand, he wanted to just get back in and drive off wherever the road took him. On the other hand… He sighed, pushing himself up and slowly making his way to the motel room. He tried the door, but it was locked. Feeling a little self-conscious, he knocked. Anna opened the door a minute later. She stared at him, and for a moment, Dean really thought she was going to slam the door in his face, but instead, she opened it all the way, letting him in the room. He got in, not saying a word, and noticed the lines of salt by the door and all the windows, as well as around the beds. Dean tossed the keys on the nearest bed, feeling awkward. What was he supposed to say? Sorry I ditched you before you had the chance to ditch me?

"There's still plenty of hot water, if you still want a shower." Anna said, turning away from him. She'd been crying again. It was pretty clear, even in the dim light in the room. Dean didn't know what to think about the way she just ignored the fact that he nearly left her out there. But then again, what did he really expect her to say? Nice to see you back? Man, this whole thing was so screwed up. He slumped down on the bed, lying on his back, his hands folded under his head. Anna sat on her own bed. "You think you're gonna take any more night trips, or did you get it out of your system?" she asked. Dean watched her. She looked bad, worse than before. She needed sleep, that much was painfully obvious, and Dean felt a sudden stab of guilt for keeping her up, for worrying her even more than she already was. Something was scaring her, that was for sure.

"So what's with all the salt?" he asked suddenly, sitting up so he could better look at her. Anna hesitated. She was too weak, too tired to play games. Tom was right, she should have let someone else take him. She never should have left the protection of her hideout. It was too dangerous, the demon had picked up on her after the crash. It was closing in, she could feel it. She needed all her strength, and protecting Dean on her own was quickly draining her. So no more games. Tomorrow, he will be gone, and she will be on the first plane to Seattle. They had a safe-house ready for her there, a place where she could rest, regain her strength.

"It's supposed to keep bad things away. Doesn't really work, but hey, at least I feel like I'm doing something, you know?" she said offhandedly, pulling the covers back and slipping in her bed. She didn't even look at the expression on Dean's face. She really didn't care how crazy he thought she was. She was just too damn tired.

"What are you talking about? Salt line like these, no demon's getting in here. They definitely keep the baddies away, trust me." Dean said quickly. _What the…? How the hell did I know that_? Anna froze. She sat back up.

"What did you just say?" she asked, her voice a little shaky. Dean stared at her without really seeing her. The dam was broken, and the memories threatened to crush him. Anna watched the helpless, freaked out expression on his face, watched his eyes darting around, watched his body sag, his head dropping in between his hands. "Why won't you go take that shower now, while there's still hot water?" she suggested, sensing his need to be alone. He seemed startled at the sound of her voice, but nodded lightly, getting up from the bed and heading slowly toward the bathroom. "I'll get you a fresh set of clothes, okay?" but Dean didn't even hear her.

* * *

Dean put his hands on the tiled wall, leaning heavily on its support as the water sprayed down on him. The memories washed over him with more intensity than the steamy water. The fire that killed his mom, school, hunting, fights, Sammy leaving for college, dad going missing, picking Sam up from Stanford to go look for their dad, Jess, going back to Lawrence, the Rockford asylum, Meg, the colt, dad, the demon… The memories threatened to bring him to his knees. He stayed in the shower long after the water turned ice cold, thankful he had someplace to himself, to figure things out, to compose himself once more. He was still shaken when he finally came out of the shower, but at least he had regained some of his self control. Anna laid out a fresh set of sweats on his bed. He sat heavily on the bed, taking the clothes in his hand and watched her. She laid on her side, her hands under her head, her eyes closed. She seemed asleep, but Dean knew she wasn't. He got dressed quickly and put the towel back in the bathroom. Standing at the bathroom door, Dean watched her lying there, breathing softly. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He remembered everything, at least until sometime after the demon let go of their father. He figured he must have blacked out because of the blood loss. But he didn't remember her. He didn't remember Anna at all. 

Dean walked over to his bed, sitting down heavily, his head between his hands. He glanced at Anna again. She needed to sleep, he hated to bother her, but he knew she wasn't sleeping. He looked at the time. It was after one in the morning. She definitely needed the rest. Dean cleared his throat.

"Anna?" he asked, uncertain. She made a little sound, but didn't open her eyes. "What am I doing here, Anna?" Dean asked.

"Too late for a philosophical debate, Dean. Go to sleep." She mumbled. Dean grinned, shaking his head.

"You know what I mean, Anna. Why am _I_ here, and Sam and my dad aren't?" he asked. This time she opened her eyes, looking at him.

"I'll get you to them tomorrow." She promised. His gaze locked her eyes. "You remember, don't you?" she asked, and Dean nodded slowly. He saw the hope igniting in her eyes as she sat up in bed. "Then, you remember…?" she left the sentence unfinished. Dean looked at her for a long moment before lowering his eyes.

"I'm sorry…" he said, looking back at her. "I wish I did, I really do, but I still don't remember you." He said softly. His chest constricted at the look on her face. Her eyes watered, but she quickly blinked the tears away.

"Oh." She said, "Okay then." Dean got up quickly, ignoring a sudden pain in his ankle, and crouched down next to her.

"Look, if you could just tell me… Give me something, anything…" he said, looking in her eyes, but she wouldn't catch his gaze.

"I can't." she said in a strangled voice. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Yes, it does!" Dean said quickly, "Look, I don't want to lose you, Anna. We have a thing here, you and me. I know you feel it." He said, and felt a little encouraged when she didn't deny it. "Look, I'm sorry, I've been with a lot of women… If you could just… I don't know… give me a frame of reference or something? Did I help you? Did we hook up?"

"No," she said quickly. Dean shook his head, thinking she was turning him down again, only to realize she actually answered him. He wrinkled his brow, looking at her. "We didn't… hook up." She said. "Way too young for that." She smiled, "Look, it's okay that you don't remember, really, it's been…" and then she realized what she was saying. She swallowed hard, her heart quickening its pace.

"Too young? So, we were kids? When we met, we were kids?" Dean held onto that piece of information with both hands, racking his mind, trying to remember her.

"Look," she seemed uncomfortable. "Just forget it, okay? I wouldn't recognize you myself now. You've changed so much. I don't know why I thought you'd remember." Anna said quickly.

"But you do." Dean said slowly. Anna lowered her eyes and he sighed. "And I can't change your mind?" he asked, but she shook her head. He nodded slowly, going back to sit on his bed.

"You know," Anna started a moment later and he looked up at her, "this is a big bed." She said simply, lying back down. Dean hesitated for a split second before getting up and walking over to her bed. She had her back to him, but then turned and laid on her stomach, her face turned to him. He hooked her hair behind her ear, watching her. There was something there, he knew it. He knew it when he first saw her. Well, when he first saw her again, he figured. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer, and she didn't resist.

"You know, when I was lying in that bed with Swiss cheese for brains and I couldn't even stay conscious long enough to figure out where I was…" Dean's voice trailed off. Anna turned slightly so she could see him better, but she didn't say a thing. Dean looked at her. "When I first saw you, you know what I thought?" he asked. She looked questioningly at him. Dean lowered his eyes, smiling an embarrassed smile. He didn't do the chick-flick thing, but there he was, chick-flicking away. He cleared his throat. "I felt safe. It felt like I was home." He said in a small voice, looking timidly at her reaction. A grin spread on her lips, turning slowly to a smile. Dean cleared his throat again, feeling hot under her gaze. He grinned embarrassedly. "Well, aren't you going to say anything?" he asked, "I don't want to lose you, Anna." He added when she still said nothing. And then she kissed him.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Dean opened his eyes, his hand inching its way under his pillow for his knife. It wasn't there. He cursed inwardly, pretending to still be asleep. The door opened and closed quietly, but not quiet enough for his trained hunter ears. His heart quickened its pace. Someone was there. He needed a weapon, and fast. Risking opening one eye, he noticed the small lamp. That would do. He tensed, ready to leap and grab the lamp when the smell of fresh coffee reached him. _Coffee_? Dean turned, and then a grin lighted his features.

"Hey, what are you doing all the way over there?" he asked, and Anna jumped.

"You're up," she said, smiling at him, and brought over one of the coffee cups, handing it to him. Dean reached for the cup, and then pulled her into the bed.

"Careful, it's hot." Anna cautioned him.

"Oh, I know." Dean smirked, kissing her. "How long have you been up?" he asked.

"About an hour." She said, getting up only to be pulled back down for another, longer kiss.

"How'd you sleep?" Dean asked, watching her. He still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"Great." She smiled at him.

"Liar." Dean said, sipping from the coffee and making a little satisfied noise. "Oh, come on, I was holding you, Anna, you didn't sleep." Dean added at the look she gave him.

"Fine. So you get to drive today." She said, going over to take her own coffee. Dean scrambled for his underwear and his jeans and quickly put them on. "We should really get going, it's late." Anna added a moment later. Dean eyed her.

"It's not even eight yet." He said, and cocked a brow. "You know, come to think about it, we shouldn't even be out of bed at this hour." He said, smirking. She smirked right back, and he could tell she was going to cave. What could he say, he had that affect on women. She walked over to him, kissing him, but pushed him away when he tried pulling her toward the bed. Dean didn't push.

"Come on, get dressed. If we leave now, we can be there in a couple of hours." Anna said and Dean frowned.

"And you're going to stay?" he asked. She gave him a long look.

"How old were we when we first met?" she asked, and Dean rolled his eyes. He had really hoped they were over that by now. She gave him a sad smile.

"Look, whatever it is, Anna, just tell me." Dean said, "I'm a big boy, I can handle it, believe me." He said, nearing her, his eyes going to the salt lines protecting the room. "Look, if you're afraid of some monster thing, I can totally help. It's what I do, Anna." He said.

"I know." Anna said in a small voice, "They told me." Dean raised a brow at that, but didn't want to push it. They were on their way half an hour later, Dean driving this time. It felt good to be in the driver's seat. He missed his car. Anna sat beside him, her eyes closed as she tried to sleep. She really didn't look good to him.

"Anna?" Dean asked, glancing at her. She made a small sound to let him know she was listening, but didn't open her eyes. "I think we should get you to a doctor or something. You really don't look so good." Dean said.

"I'll be fine, Dean." She said, glancing at him. "I promise you, by tomorrow, I'll sleep like a rock." She said. _If I'm still alive by then_, she thought.

"So, do you actually know where they are, or are we just driving around looking?" Dean asked. She still hadn't told him where they were going.

"They're at the Pine Lodge. Shouldn't be too difficult to find." Anna said, straightening.

"There's one thing that's still bothering me." Dean said, looking at the street signs as he passed them by.

"What's that?" Anna asked. Dean didn't answer right away. He bit his lip, glancing at her, and then decided to go for it.

"When I came to," he cleared his throat, "well, there was this nurse…" he glanced at Anna, "and you sorto' shot her." He said. Anna looked out the window for a while, not answering. He called out to her, reminding her he was still waiting for an answer.

"You sure you want to know?" she asked, not looking at him. He told her he did, and she sighed, turning to look at him. "She was possessed. She was going to kill you." she said. Dean nodded slightly. He was afraid of that. And then a thought occurred to him.

"But if she was possessed, a regular bullet won't kill her." He said, glancing at Anna, but thinking of Meg.

"Oh, I know." Anna said, looking away again. "Beheading helps." Dean raised a brow. Good point. Should do the trick. He made a face when he pictured a beheaded corpse still possessed and trying to kick his ass. Not a very nice image.

It took him twenty minutes to find the Pine Lodge. Dean stopped the car, looking at the rundown motel. Anna was sleeping, finally. Dean didn't see the Impala anywhere. _Maybe she was wrong, maybe they weren't at this place_, Dean thought, but then caught glimpse of a familiar figure limping out of a coffee shop holding a couple of large cups, one in each hand. Dad. Dean hesitated. He wanted to be with his family, but every instinct he had told him to stay with Anna. It wasn't just that he liked her, it was more than that. He needed to stay with her. Maybe it was his need to protect people, maybe it was because she seemed so small and tired and scared, but he just knew that he shouldn't let her leave. It was supposed to be so simple, all he needed to do was tell her how old they were when they met. She said they were young, too young to sleep together, so… elementary? Junior high? He didn't go hunting with his dad when he was still in elementary school, so he figured junior high was his best bet.

Anna woke up with a start, a haunted look in her eyes. She was having a nightmare. The dull headache she'd been fighting for the last few days was no longer dull. The pain was growing, and she knew it wasn't going to get better. Already she could hear the whispers in her head, still too vague to distinguish, but they were there, and they shouldn't have been. Not yet.

"Bad dream?" Dean's voice barely registered through her headache. She nodded, wondering why the car wasn't moving. A sudden surge of panic washed over her, but then she noticed the motel.

"We're here?" she asked. Dean glanced at the motel and gave a slight nod. "It's time." She said. Dean turned to her, watching her carefully.

"How can I change your mind?" he asked. She smiled, kissing him. _Better make it good_, she thought, _you're never going to see him again_. She let him pull back first. She didn't want to let him go, she'd spent years looking for him, but he didn't remember. Sticking around would only put him in more danger. If she left now, there was a chance she could draw the demon away, and hopefully, by the time she reached the safe-house, Dean would be long gone. But the headache and the whispers in her head made her doubt she would ever reach the safe-house in time.

"Time to go." She told him. Dean gave her a long look, and then took the keys out of the ignition.

"What if I don't give you the keys back?" he asked.

"You can keep the car." She said.

"Anna, what the hell?"

"Seriously, I won't need it." She said, "And you will." She opened the door, stepping out. Dean followed her.

"So, that's it?" he snapped. She nodded lightly as he walked over to her. "Just like that, you're leaving?" Dean demanded. She kissed him. A kiss goodbye. But he caught her wrist as she turned to leave, looking pleadingly at her.

"Your family's waiting." She forced herself to smile, but the tears still came.

"Anna," but she left.

* * *

"Here." John said, handing the tall coffee cup to his son. Sam took it wordlessly, putting it on the bedside table without even taking the top off. He was sprawled in bed, the laptop in his lap. He couldn't believe it when the impound lot manager told him they had the laptop and all the rest of their stuff in his office, well, all except for the weapons. Those were all gone. But at least they had their clothes and his dad's journal. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. Dean was calling from Polk, it wasn't too far from there. All they needed was a car, and then they could get him back. But his dad wouldn't let him. John honestly didn't believe Dean was still alive, or if he were, that he wasn't possessed by now. With the Colt gone, so were his hopes of killing the demon that did this to his family. John slumped down on the bed next to his son. "Sammy…" 

"He's still alive!" Sam snapped. "He called, I talked to him last night!" he said indignantly.

"Son, it still doesn't mean it was really Dean. More reason for us to split. The demon must know we're vulnerable, it might already know where we are, it could be here any minute." John said somberly and jumped at the knock on the door. He and Sam exchanged looks, Sam putting the laptop away and John reached for a gun. Their only gun, now. He managed to get his hands on it just a couple of nights ago. John wordlessly ordered his son to stay out of the way as he slowly reached for the door. Sam reached for a bottle of Holy water, just in case, not that he had much faith in it anymore. John peeked out the window, his breath caught in his throat, and quickly unlocked the door, but then hesitated a moment before removing the chain from the door. Glancing at Sam, he opened the door, his heart overflowing at the sight of the familiar grin and those hazel eyes. A strangled cry escaped his lips at the words 'hey, dad,' and he pulled Dean into a strong embrace. It was stupid, he knew it, Dean could be possessed, that's what he was trying to explain to Sam, but he just couldn't help it.

"Dean!" John heard Sam cry behind him and felt himself being pushed aside as his sons fell on each other's shoulders.

"Ow, wait, Sammy, you're crushing me!" Dean muttered, but still laughed as Sam pulled him inside the room. Dean gave one last glance back, but Anna was already gone. Sam was quick to pull Dean over to the bed. _Oh, great, the Mother Hen routine_, Dean thought, but it only brought a grin to his lips. He was glad to be back with his family again.

"How are you feeling? You alright?" Sam asked worriedly. He still had some bruises on his face from when demon-boy used his face as his personal punching bag, but other than that Sam seemed okay. His dad seemed fine, too, and Dean couldn't even believe how relieved that made him feel.

"Yeah, dude, I'm fine." Dean said quickly, pushing Sam's hands away. "Get off me, man."

"Sam," John's voice was cold, warning. "Stay back. We still don't know for sure." John said.

"Dad…" Sam started to protest, but didn't really have a leg to stand on. His father had been possessed the last time. They didn't do a good job making sure, and look where it had got them. Reluctantly, he stepped back. Dean looked questioningly at his dad, but then he understood.

"I remember now." He said, matter-of-factly. "I remember everything." He added. _Well, not quite everything_, he thought bitterly. "Go ahead, do what you need to do." He gave a slight nod. Sam looked at his dad. What were they supposed to do? Holy water didn't work the last time. An exorcism?

"Cristo." John said, and Dean smiled.

"Come on, that's amateur stuff." He said, "Try an exorcism or something. Maybe the one we tried on Meg? It killed the sonofabitch that possessed her." Dean suggested, looking at Sam. Sam glanced at his dad quizzically, and John gave a slight nod. Dean stared out the window.

"Hey, Sammy, where's my car?" he asked, and saw the quick exchange of looks between his father and his brother. And then it hit him. A car accident. Anna said he had been in a car accident. He jumped to his feet. "You little bastard, what did you do to my car?" Dean demanded. "I swear, Sammy, if you messed up my car, I'll kill you!" he cried, looking fearfully at his dad. "How bad?" he barely managed, "Please tell me she's okay." The smile on Sam's face was reflected in that of his father. "What?" Dean demanded.

"He's Dean alright." Sam said, shutting the book closed.

"Yeah, yeah, where's my car?" Dean demanded angrily.

TBC

A/N: okay, now that we got all the little stuff out of the way, time for the real action, don't you think? Really craving those reviews guys, you rock!


	10. New meaning to the word nightmare

Chapter Ten - Giving the word 'Nightmare' a whole new meaning

_He couldn't breathe. The air was suffocating. Someone was there with him, trying to hurt him, trying to kill him. Someone grabbed his shoulders. Dean fought, trying to break free, screaming at whoever it was,_ whatever _it was, to let him go. His wrist hurt. It was cut and bleeding. The sight of blood scared him, and he fought harder._

"Dean! Stop it, wake up!" Dean opened his eyes with a gasp, only to find himself in bed, his father gripping his hands tightly. Dean was sweating and shaking. "It's okay, son, you're safe now." John said, a little more softly. He waited for Dean to calm down a little more before he pulled his son to his chest, holding him, rubbing a hand gently up and down his son's back. He'd learned that lesson the hard way; it was best to let Dean calm down before they tried to touch him. John had had the black eye to prove it, Sam having the broken nose. Dean sank into his father, holding onto him as if he were a lifeboat, as John stroked his hair lovingly, returning the embrace. Sam was tending to his bloodied nose, grimacing. It was already broken, he was afraid it was going to get worse.

The nightmares started a couple of nights after Dean came back. The first one had John jumping out of his bed with the gun in his hand, ready to take on half a dozen demons at least. Dean couldn't tell them what he dreamt about, mostly because it scared him too much to put it to words, but also because he didn't quite understand what he was seeing. The first few he had finally figured out. The yellow eyes were a dead giveaway. At first he thought it was just his subconscious reacting to everything he'd been through, but then he started to recognize those nightmares for what they were. Memories. Distant, long repressed, memories. Yellow, malicious eyes, pinning him with their gaze. He didn't even remember what the rest of the demon looked like. The eyes were all consuming. They had him pinned to the wall, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to even cry. His head filled with distant, soft whispers, but the sheer terror pushed them away. The eyes seemed amused at his straggles. Daddy. He had to call daddy, but he couldn't. All Dean could do was mouth the words as the demon made its way to Sammy's nursery. Dean tried to scream for his mommy, to warn her, but he couldn't. And then came the scream, and then the fire, and then he was free.

The nightmares only got worse after that. Those were different; scary, painful even. It got to a point where he was afraid to go to sleep.

"Shh, it's okay, son," John whispered in his ear, "it was just a dream." He said over and over, but Dean still couldn't breathe. The air was still suffocating. He pushed away from his father, a haunted look in his eyes, and leaped for the door. He struggled with the key for a moment, and then he was out of the room, taking in the cool night air. Dean shuddered, falling to his knees. He was starting to get a little claustrophobic. His father was soon by his side, his hand on Dean's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but this time it wasn't enough. Dean pressed his hands to his temples, trying to make the whispers go away, trying to ease the headache. There were so many different voices, and none of them made sense. If only they said something that made sense! Dean shook his head, trying to get the last remnants of the dream to go away, but the fear was still there. And so was the feeling that someone was after him, trying to get to him, trying to kill him. John helped him to his feet. "You want to take a little walk?" his father asked. This wasn't new, either. Trying to get Dean inside too soon would only result in a panic attack. Something was happening to his son, and John didn't like it. Dean nodded. The fresh air was still necessary, as well as the lack of walls closing in around him.

"I'll come with you." Sam suggested. Dean stared at him for a moment, noticing the blood staining his T-shirt, and grimaced.

"Sorry, Sammy." He said. Sam shook his head dismissingly.

"It's okay, don't worry about it." He said, and waited for Dean to lead the way. Sam gave his father a meaningful look before starting after his brother.

* * *

"It looked like a really bad one." Sam said eventually. They have been walking in silence for a while, and Dean still had that haunted, fearful look in his eyes. Dean nodded, wincing. The headache was growing stronger. "Dean, I was thinking," Sam started, watching his brother worriedly. Dean didn't even try to make a joke. It was a bad sign. "You always get headaches after those nightmare." Sam started, only to get an angry glare from his brother. 

"No kidding, Sherlock." Dean snapped irritably.

"You know, I get headaches. Really bad ones. You know, um, after I get a vision." Sam said, his voice trailing off at the end.

"That sucks out loud." Dean muttered, wincing as a car's headlights blinded him momentarily, making his headache even worse.

"What do you think?" Sam asked, studying his brother.

"About what?" Dean asked as he kept on walking.

"About your nightmares." Sam said, "You think they could be… you know?" he asked. "I mean, it makes sense in a way, doesn't it?" he kept going when Dean didn't answer. Dean pushed his watched a little higher up his hand, looking at the scar on his wrist. He's had it ever since he could remember, but he didn't remember how he got it. He never really thought about it before.

"They're not visions." Dean said, not even looking at Sam.

"How can you be so sure?" Sam asked, "Maybe if you tell me what you see, I could…"

"They're not visions, Sam, okay?" Dean snapped. Sam blinked, surprised at the anger in his brother's voice. He raised his hands.

"Okay." He said, and watched Dean moving on, quickly following him. "But they are getting worse." Sam noted. Dean said nothing to protest. Another bad sign. "You really need to get some sleep, man." Sam went on. Dean snorted.

"No, thanks, I'm set." He said.

"Dean," he jumped when Sam grabbed his arm. He actually had to stop himself from pounding Sam to the ground. "Listen, man, it's not right. Something's going on with you, and we need to figure out what." Sam said worriedly.

"I'm just tired, Sam." Dean said, shaking Sam's hand off him.

"Well, maybe you should see someone." Sam said in a small voice. "You know, like a doctor or something. Maybe they could give you some pills or something to help you sleep better." He suggested, and Dean didn't say anything. Another warning sign. Hell, this one practically had flashing red lights on it, and an arrow pointing to the words '_something's wrong_' flashing marquee-style. Dean hated doctors. He did everything he could to avoid them. Well, unless they belonged to the female kind and were sitting in a bar, then he didn't mind so much.

The doctor gave Dean a small bottle of pills and five names of whom he claimed were excellent therapists. The pills actually worked the first couple of nights. The first time Dean took them he slept for fifteen hours straight. But then the nightmares came back, with vengeance, so it seemed. The first one he had was of Anna. He kept seeing her die, and whenever she did, he could feel whatever she felt. It was so bad he actually woke up with a bruise on his chest at one time, from where she had gotten shot.

And then it got worse.

John had gotten a call from Missouri. She only told him one thing. Get those boys and run. Doesn't matter where, just go, and don't look back. Sam had had a vision that night. Dean's headache got so bad he had passed out.

TBC

A/N: Yeah, I know, I'm mean. That's one hell of a cliffy, but what can I say, it's gonna get much worse before it gets better… Review please… (and don't kill me, I'll update tomorrow, promise!)


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Okay, this little story took a life of it's own. I never meant for it to be this long, and I'm just starting. Hope it's still suspenseful and angsty, and that you're still interested.

Chapter Eleven

Dean leaned his head against the window, watching the scenery changing quickly as they passed it by. Sam was sleeping in the back seat. Dean never thought he'd be jealous of his brother over something as trivial as sleep. He was exhausted, but at least the headache was gone. Finally.

"Why won't you try closing your eyes for a while?" his dad suggested, looking at him as he drove the car Anna left him. Dean glanced at his dad, and then looked back out the window. Nope. No sleep, no closing his eyes for as long as he could avoid it. "Seriously, Dean, you look like crap." John noted. _Always the sweet-talker_, Dean thought bitterly.

"Want me to drive for a while?" Dean suggested. John glanced at him, amused.

"No, thanks. I'd prefer not to end up in a ditch, thank you very much." He said. "How long has it been since you got an honest sleep?" Dean looked away again. He couldn't keep it up anymore. He had already decided to give the pills another go, see what happens. He doubted it could get much worse, though he suspected he might be wrong.

"Dad?" Dean asked, still looking out the window. He was aware of his father's eyes on him. "You remember how I got the scar on my wrist?" he asked. It's been bothering the hell out of him. He figured it was because of his recent memory loss and Anna leaving. Remembering things seemed really important right about now. He missed her. She never gave him a phone number or an e-mail address or any other way to get in touch with her. He cursed himself for forgetting to ask. It wasn't like him not to get a girl's phone number.

"Why do you ask?" John asked him. Dean looked back at his father.

"I don't know." he said, "It's just that I can't remember, and it's been bugging me."

"It was nothing." John said after a short pause. "An accident." He said, "You tried climbing a tree and you fell." John glanced at Dean, who seemed satisfied with the answer. John wondered what the hell made his son ask that particular question all of a sudden. It happened ages ago, and they'd both worked hard to forget it. It was a disturbing thought. He hoped this wasn't what his son had been dreaming about.

* * *

_Dean laughed, pulling Anna closer, and she leaned her head against his chest, her fingers searching for his. They sat on a blanket, with a little picnic basket by their side and plenty of beer to spare. The sun was high in the sky and there was a light breeze blowing, helping to cool the hot air. It was perfect. Or would be, if… Dean frowned, straightening. _

_"What is it, sweetie?" Anna asked him. They were inside all of a sudden, but Anna didn't seem to notice. A strange, inverted pentagram stretched around the blanket, black candles lit in its corners. "Dean?" Anna's voice seemed worried, "What's wrong?" Dean's eyes widened at the blood coming out of her mouth. His heart began to race as the air suddenly became damp, dense, almost impossible to breathe. Dean gasped for breath, doubling over. He could see it now, the demon with the metallic green eyes. It was coming closer, and the closer it got, the more difficult it became to breathe. Anna was lying dead in a pool of blood and Dean could feel his own blood leaving his body. He screamed in pain. Someone grabbed his wrists. Dean struggled, gasping, crying out in pain. There was so much blood around. Dean could see them now, just barely, in the darkness that blanketed the room. Children, small children in pools of blood. He could almost recognize their faces. And then those green eyes were on him again, and he couldn't breathe. He struggle against whatever it was that was holding his wrists in a deathlike grip, but couldn't break away. Cold sweat was trickling down his brow and spine. He was barely aware of the others. The one with the yellow eyes was there, too, but there were others. They weren't supposed to be there, but then again, neither was he._

"Sammy, drive faster, I can't hold him much longer!" _the voice seemed distant, distorted. It didn't make sense. Dean struggled, fighting with everything he had. He saw the amusement in those yellow eyes, saw it in the green ones as well._

_"You're next." Someone said, and then he finally fell into a blessed, numb darkness._

* * *

Dean opened his eyes. He stared at the white ceiling for a moment, and then looked around him. It looked like a hospital. _Oh, great_. He hated hospitals. Dean could feel the beginning of a headache starting to form, the soft voices thankfully too distant to add to it. _Perfect, just perfect_. He tried to get up only to discover his hands were in restraints. _What the hell_? Dean looked around him again. Sam was sleeping in a chair not far from his bed. 

"Sam? Sammy!" Dean cried out and Sam jumped, looking around in confusion until his eyes fixed on his brother.

"Dean," he said, rubbing his eyes. "You're awake."

"No kidding, college boy," Dean snapped, "What the hell, Sammy? What's going on?" Dean asked, moving his hands as far as the restraints allowed.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked worriedly.

"A little tied up at the moment," Dean tried to keep the growing panic out of his voice. "Sam…"

"I'll go get dad." Sam said quickly, before Dean had the chance to go on, "He'd want to know you woke up." Sam added just as Dean opened his mouth to speak, and quickly left the room. Dean frowned, fumbling with the restraints. He didn't appreciate being unable to defend himself. Sam and John came back in the room a few minutes later, and Dean noticed that Sam kept his distance. John, however, came to sit down next to him on his bed.

"How are you feeling, tiger?" John asked, a forced smile on his lips.

"What's going on? Dad, why am I in these things?" Dean asked, trying to read his father's expression, and not quite liking what he saw. "Dad? What's wrong?" Dean asked, his heart hammering.

"You should try to rest some more, Dean." John said.

"Dad?" his claustrophobia was starting to kick in and Dean started to fight the restraints. "Take them off, dad, please!" Dean asked, looking pleadingly at his father, but John didn't move. "Dad, please!" Dean was breathing hard now.

"I can't do that." John said somberly.

"What? Why not?" Dean demanded, feeling the walls crushing in on him.

"They need to stay on, Dean. Try to relax." John said, watching the panic washing over his son. He gave Sam a warning look, cautioning him to stay back. Sam seemed reluctant, but obeyed without question; the events of the previous night still all too fresh in his mind.

"Dad, please…" Dean begged, tears streaming from his eyes, "I can't breathe!" he gasped.

"Yes, you can. You don't need your hands to breathe as far as I can remember." John said coolly, but took Dean's hand in his. It hurt him to see his son like that, but there was no other choice. Not after last night.

"Dad…" Sam's voice was strangled, worried. "Should I go get someone?" he asked. John gave him a slight nod and Sam quickly disappeared down the hall.

"Why are you doing this?" Dean breathed as the soft whispers in his head became screams. He winced. There were just too many of them, all speaking at once. He couldn't make out anything they were saying, but the sentiment was crystal clear. Air. He needed to get air. He was panicking, and he knew it. Dean closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breathe, but it was too difficult. He kept trying. He could still feel his dad's hand on his, squeezing it reassuringly. Dean was shaking now, but still forced himself to take deep breaths. The screams started to fade into the distance and he could finally breathe again, but the struggle left him exhausted.

"There you go." John said, stroking his forehead. "Just breathe, relax." He said, and Dean listened. He felt himself being drawn back into darkness, but wouldn't let go of his father's hand. He needed someone to pull him back out.

* * *

Dean stared at the white ceiling. He'd been staring at it for a while now, trying to count the tiny holes in between each fluorescent light, but he kept losing count. Sam was sleeping in the chair again, and Dean didn't want to wake him up. He decided not to think about it. Not to think about why he was in a hospital, restrained to a bed. His father was there, and he told him that the restraints needed to stay on, so Dean just refused to think about them. It didn't help that he was suddenly itchy all over. The headache was gone. He forced himself to concentrate on that wonderful piece of news, instead of the fact that he was tied to a bed, defenseless. Sam stirred, waking up. Dean looked at him and grinned. He didn't really know what to say. Sam got to his feet, noticing Dean was awake. 

"Hey," he said. Well, that much talking didn't require thinking. That much Dean could manage.

"Hey," he said back to Sam.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked.

"Trying not to think about it." Dean said and Sam smiled a small smile.

"How's your head?" Sam asked.

"Better." Dean said, closing his eyes. "Any chance you're going to take these damn things off me?" he asked hopefully, opening one eye to see Sam's reaction. Sam made a face. He shook his head slightly.

"I'm sorry," he started, but didn't go on. Dean sighed.

"Well, could you at least scratch my nose for me? It's driving me crazy." He said. Sam smiled, shaking his head, but scratched Dean's nose. "Where's dad?" Dean asked. Sam looked around him and shrugged.

"Around, I guess." He said.

"Hey, when's lunchtime? I'm starving." Dean groaned, and frowned at the look on Sam's face. "What? Don't tell me I missed it." Dean said.

"No, it's just…" Sam stuttered awkwardly, "well, um, they're sort of using a tube for that." He said. Dean groaned. Perfect. And there he was, fantasizing about a double cheeseburger with extra fries.

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean started again a moment later. Sam gave him his sympathetic smile, and Dean thought he was going to be sick. "I think I'm gonna give your vision theory a go." He said. Sam wrinkled his brow.

"Really?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, what the heck, right?" Dean asked, "I can't make sense of what I'm seeing, maybe they are visions or something." Dean said flatly, but Sam still noticed him stumble over the word vision.

"Um, okay. You wanna tell me about it?" he asked, bringing the chair over. Dean shrugged, closing his eyes.

"I see kids. Little kids. There's about ten of 'em." Dean said. "They sorto' look familiar, like I've seen them before. Do you ever get that?" he asked, looking at Sam.

"No, not really." Sam said in a small voice. "But that doesn't mean anything." He added quickly. "What else do you see?" he asked. Dean sighed.

"They're really young, you know? I think the oldest one there is like, nine or ten. They're really scared. It's like they know, you know?" Sam frowned.

"Know what?" he asked.

"That they're gonna die." Dean said quietly. Sam swallowed.

"Um, try not to think about that, okay? Try to think about something we can use. Can you see where they are, any clue that might help us get to them?" he offered.

"I don't know," Dean closed his eyes again, "It's dark. And stuffy. Smelly, too, like… old carpet or something." Dean said, "Not really helpful, is it?" he smiled a sad smile.

"No, it gives us a start. Children going missing, I can check on that." Sam said quickly. "I mean, ten kids, that's a lot." He added, a little hopeful. It sounded right that his brother would have a vision about something that wanted to hurt kids. Dean's always had a soft spot for kids. The older brother in him, Sam supposed.

"Hey, Sam?" Sam looked up at his brother. Dean's eyes were closed. "Anyone gonna tell me what I'm doing here?" Dean asked in a small voice, and Sam swallowed hard, hoping his dad would walk in and take over that little talk. He wasn't ready for it.

"You just need to rest." Sam said, "You're exhausted, that's it." Dean propped one eye open, eyeing his brother, but didn't say anything. Exhausted wouldn't require restraints. Just the thought of these things holding him down made it difficult to breathe again, so he pushed the thought out of his head and instead thought of his beloved Impala, now MIA.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I threw in another little dream sequence; I hope it's not too confusing. Let me know what you think.

Chapter Twelve

"Dean, you still awake?" there was surprise in his father's voice. Dean looked at him. It was only natural that he would be asleep. With no TV or any other source of entertainment other than his brother, John had expected Dean to be out like a light, sort of a self defense mechanism against the total boredom. But Dean merely gave him a grin before looking away. John came by to sit with him. "How are you feeling, sport?" John asked.

"I really want out of those." Dean said in a small voice. John clenched his jaw, lowering his eyes.

"I know you do, son." He said. He was rather surprised Dean didn't demand to be let out, but then again, the boy has always followed orders. It was just so hard to see him this way. John looked back at his other son, sleeping uncomfortably on a chair, his long limbs dangling in his sleep. It brought a shadow of a smile to his lips. "You know, it's really late." He told Dean, who shrugged. "More nightmares?" John inquired.

"Don't really feel like finding out." Dean said simply.

"How's the headache?" Dean sighed, but didn't answer. The headache was gone, but he didn't want to jinx it. His eyes went to his father as the older man got to his feet.

"Dad?" John turned to look at him. "How long would I have to stay here like that?" Dean asked.

"I don't know." He admitted. "As long as it takes, I guess." Dean gave a slight nod.

"Why am I here?" he asked, looking out the barred window. He really needed some fresh air. John sighed, coming back to sit by his son.

"Because there's something wrong." He said.

"What?" Dean asked, not looking at his dad.

"Those nightmares you've been having, they're not right." John said. _No kidding_, Dean thought, but remained silent. "I didn't know what else to do," at that, Dean turned. He wasn't used to hearing his father admitting defeat. "I needed to be sure we can control you." John explained, and Dean frowned.

"Why?" he asked, and John hesitated. "Am I possessed or something?" Dean asked.

"No." John said firmly. "At least, I don't think so." He added a moment later.

"Then…" Dean looked at his dad, trying to read the older man's expression.

"Those nightmares of yours are getting dangerous, Dean." John said finally, and Dean waited for farther explanation. He had to wait a long time. John sighed. "At first, I could still control you. You just had to wake up, to realize it was just a dream and calm down, and then everything would be alright." John said finally.

"But?" Dean asked, knowing it was coming.

"You had a knife last night." John said somberly, and Dean gasped.

"Sammy? Did… did I…?" he asked, his heart speeding.

"No. No, nothing like that." John said quickly, "You didn't try to hurt Sammy, Dean. You tried you hurt yourself." He said, studying his son carefully. Dean seemed stunned. He looked down at the restraints, and then back up at his father. "I tried to stop you, but you kept fighting me," John shook his head. "You were screaming, I couldn't get you to wake up." Dean's mind raced. He couldn't believe he'd do something like that.

"Dad?" he said in a small voice. John looked at him questioningly. "I don't want to sleep." Dean said, "Don't let me sleep." He asked.

"What are you dreaming about, Dean?" John asked, bringing a chair over. Dean's eyes watered. His lower lip quivered.

"I don't know." He said, "But it's…" he shook his head. John stayed up with him all night.

* * *

They started running more tests the next morning, the first set coming out normal. They wanted to run a CT and an MRI, to make sure there wasn't a medical reason behind the strong headaches. John could see the immediate change in his son as the doctors explained both procedures. It wasn't all that necessary to explain, they've all been through at least one of these tests before, but the doctors still insisted. A good thing, John now realized as he saw Dean tensing. Dean kept glancing his way, silently pleading him to get him off the hook. John didn't understand it at first. Neither test was painful, and Dean's been through both before. The CT should last about twenty minutes, and all he had to do was lay down. And then he understood. Dean would have to lay still for twenty minutes inside a very confined space for the CT scan, and for an hour for the MRI. Right now, Dean was having trouble with the restraints holding his hands still. He spoke to the doctors, informing them of his son's problem with confined spaces. The doctor in charge of the MRI said Dean could be sedated during the procedure, but the one in charge of the CT tried to convince him that it would only be a few minutes, that it was harmless and that he would have a microphone so he could ask questions or let them know if there was something wrong. 

Dean was reluctant to leave the bed, even if it did mean finally having the restraints off his hands. _What's wrong with you_? He told himself over and over, _it's just lying on a stupid table and waiting, you can do that_. But he was still shaking. When they finally got him to the small room in which the CT was located, all Dean could think about was how small and windowless the room was, and they wanted him to get in this tiny space and just… wait for something to happen to him. He couldn't do it, he just couldn't. Pushing a couple of nurses out of his way, he got out of there as fast as he could, finding the elevator and hitting the button for the ground level. Two minutes after that, he was out of the hospital, breathing free air again. He felt stupid, but he couldn't help it. Finding a bench nearby, he sat down, closing his eyes, and just took deep breaths. He was tired. God, he was tired. He felt someone sitting next to him a couple of minutes later, but still didn't open his eyes.

"Found anything about those kids?" Dean asked. Sam let out a deep breath.

"No." he said, "But it's going to take a while. We don't know which state, so I had to run a nation-wide search. Ten states down, forty more to go." He grinned. Dean put his elbows on his knees, his head resting in his hands. "Anything more you can give me?" Sam asked. Dean ran his fingers through his short hair and straightened.

"How stupid do I look right now?" he asked.

"Well, the slit out the back doesn't help much." Sam grinned, and Dean groaned, going back to his earlier position. "Isn't it, you know, windy down there?" Sam smirked.

"Shut up!" Dean snapped. "Her name's Alexa." He added a moment later and Sam looked at him questioningly. "She's eight, I think. She's wearing a bright blue shirt and a white skirt with flowers on it. No, wait, it's not a shirt, it's a sweater." Dean said, and Sam frowned.

"A girl from your vision?" Sam asked.

"She's really sweet." Dean gave a small smile, a distant look in his eyes. "She's trying to calm the other kids down. Says her dad's a cop." Sam straightened.

"That can actually help." He said, "If her dad's a cop, there's gotta be a file, there'll be cops all over it." He added. "Can you tell me anything else?" he asked. Dean nodded slightly.

"She's Asian." He said, getting to his feet. "And she's dead." He added, starting back towards the hospital, holding his hospital gown firmly closed. Sam kept sitting for a couple seconds more, stunned.

* * *

_He was scared. Really scared. He curled inside himself, trying to become even smaller than he was. There were other kids there, too. They were scared too, some of them were even crying, but he wasn't. At least, not out loud. There were younger kids there; four, even three years old. They were crying like babies. Like Sammy. He just made sure to keep to the corner and make himself invisible._

_There was this one girl there, much older than he was. She had funny looking eyes, sort of slanted. She was nice. She told everyone that her name was Alexa, and that her daddy was a cop and that he was going to get them all out of there. It made him feel better, knowing there was a cop out there, looking for him. Daddy could get distracted sometimes, and not even notice Sammy crying, even if he's been crying for hours._

_There was a little boy, Tommy, not far from him. Tommy was little, he was only three, but his big brother Stan was also there, and Stan was nine. Stan was holding Tommy, making his oweeis go away. Dean wished someone would make his owee go away. Alexa was holding another girl. She was four, but cried like a little baby. Alexa kept stroking her hair and telling her not to cry, but the girl kept crying. She didn't want Alexa to hold her. She seemed scared of Alexa, too. Dean didn't understand why, he thought Alexa was really nice. She said they were all getting out of there, and Dean really wanted to believe her._

_One of the kids started crying that he had to use the bathroom, but Stan just told him to shut up and hold it. It was too difficult to breathe already. And it smelled, too. Like mildew and old people. Dean brought his knees even closer to his stomach, wrapping his arms around them. He felt sorry for the little girl that wouldn't stop crying. Finally, he got up and sat with her, and both of them just tried to be invisible._

_And then the door opened, and his owee started to hurt even more. It was just a couple of scratches, but they really really hurt. The little girl next to him grabbed his hand in fear when Green Eyes walked in. The kids were screaming, but Alexa just stood up, and looked at him, and told him that her daddy was a cop and that he was going to be in a lot of trouble when her daddy and his friends got there. And then Dean felt something wet spray across his face, and Alexa fell to her knees, making a strange gurgling noise. Green Eyes smiled, his look going to all the other kids, and it made breathing so much harder._

_"Anyone else's daddy's coming?" Green Eyes asked, and everyone started crying again. He took Stan with him when he left. They heard screaming. A lot of screaming. And then they stopped._

* * *

Dean sat up with a start, but his hands were in the restraints once more. He fought them. He had to get some air. 

"It's okay, it was just a dream." Sam said, quickly coming to sit by his side. "It was just a dream, Dean. You're okay." He said, trying to ease Dean back down, but his brother still fought the restraints. "Want me to open a window?" Sam suggested. At that, Dean seemed to calm down a little. He nodded. Sam got up and went over to the window. It wasn't easy to open it. He had to use all his strength to open it halfway, but even that seemed to settle his older brother. Dean fell back against the bed, staring at the ceiling, sweating and shivering. "This one didn't seem too bad," Sam noted, looking at Dean's reaction. Dean shook his head, but didn't say anything. His wrists were bruised from the restraints, Sam noticed, but he seemed calmer now. Fresh air always helped. "How's your head?" Sam asked, coming to sit with Dean once more. Dean didn't answer. "Was it a vision?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head. "Can I get you anything?" Sam offered, and Dean shook his head again. Sam sighed. "Hey, at least you got some sleep, right?" he tried, smiling, but Dean just glared at him. Sam could relate. But at least his nightmares didn't make him hurt himself. They hurt like hell, but it seemed like Dean's nightmares were much, much worse. His father was already back at work, contacting his friends and trying to figure out if those dreams could be of more supernatural nature. He thought it was possible for a spirit to channel its energy through Dean, trying to finish whatever unfinished business it had left. Whatever it was, Sam hoped it would be over soon, or at least give his older brother a break every now and then. Dean looked like crap. He wasn't even hitting on any of the nurses, and some of them were really cute.

Dean stared at the ceiling, waiting for the inevitable headache to start. As far as nightmares go, Sam was right. This wasn't such a bad one. At least this one didn't hurt. Yet. He wondered if that was how Sams visions worked, if he, too, felt like a part of the vision and could feel and see and smell and touch. He was exhausted. He wondered if this was how Anna felt, and the thought of her made all of it even more frustrating. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted her face to be the one he saw when he woke up from his hellish nightmares. He was pretty sure she could have made it all better.

* * *

Four days have passed since Dean got to the hospital. John had hoped, wished, that it wouldn't take this long. Dean's nightmares seemed to be giving him a little break. He still had them, and John guessed, by the screams and the sweating and the tossing and turning that they couldn't be nice, but at least Dean got a few hours of actual sleep every now and then. 

They took the restraints off whenever he wasn't asleep. There was no reason to make this any harder than it already was for him. And it was hard for him, John could tell. At least now he could walk around a little, and get some fresh air, and _eat_. But Dean still looked paler and weaker and thinner every time John had looked at him.

Both Joshua and Bobby came to the same conclusion he had come up with. If it were something of supernatural nature, it was most likely a spirit channeling through him. The problem was that so far, the spirit hadn't made itself shown or given any demands. Until they could figure out who, or what, it was, they couldn't get rid of it. Reluctantly, John started to accept the fact that the nightmares might not be supernatural at all. His son had been through a hell of a lot of crap in his life, and he would never talk about it. Maybe their lifestyle finally caught up with the boy. That was the reason John allowed the psychiatrist access to his son. But Dean still wouldn't talk. John really didn't blame him. The boy would probably be locked up for good if he started talking about all the things he'd been though. He wished Dean would get the hint, though, and at least open up to him or to his brother.

John stood at the doorway, watching Dean sleep. He sighed tiredly. This was one of the bad ones.

A nurse came over, injecting him with a sedative, but it really didn't seem to be doing anything. Dean was still screaming and fighting with an unknown foe, trying to be freed of his restraints. John was glad Sam wasn't there to see this. Sam needed a little break, no matter how much he protested, and John had sent him back to the motel, forbidding him from returning until he had had at least seven hours of sleep, and a decent shower. John had hoped for a haircut while they were at it, but he figured that would be a little too much to expect from his youngest.

TBC

A/N: Yes, there's a point to those nightmares, I promise. Please review.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

_Green Eyes was there again. Dean didn't see it, but he could feel it. There was a foul smell and the air was always so much harder to breathe when Green Eyes was coming. They were in a different room now, a much smaller one. There was barely room for all of them in there, and it was even stuffier than the first one. The air was so heavy it made his head spin. The little girl stayed with him. They were still by the wall, she made sure of that, and still tried to keep themselves small and out of the way. She wasn't crying now. She looked tired and scared, just like him. He really hoped daddy would come soon. Maybe even Alexa's daddy. He didn't know she wasn't there anymore, maybe he would still come with his cop friends and get them all out of there. The little girl stiffened, grabbing onto his shirt as the door suddenly opened. The kids looked at each other, and then at the opened door. One of the older ones slowly got up and peered outside._

_"Hey, it's okay, there's no one here." he whispered, "Come on, let's split before he comes back!" he added. He took one of the smaller kids' hand and helped him out. The others waited a few seconds, but then slowly started to their feet and followed him out. This was it, he could run. He knew how to run really fast; if he could get out of this stuffy room, he could run and come home, and than daddy would take care of his owee, and make him dinner and bring him chocolate milk to bed, like mommy used to do when he was sick. He got to his feet. Some of the others had to bend over, but he was short enough for his head not to reach the ceiling. He started to get out, he was one of the last ones out, there was only him and the little girl left, but she didn't even get up._

_"Come on, we have to hurry!" he whispered to her, but she just shook her head and squeezed harder against the wall. The light from outside the room hurt his eyes after being in the dark for so long. He could feel the cool air coming in. "Hurry, we have to go!" he urged her, but she just shook her head and started to cry again. Dean glanced at the door, and then turned back to the little girl. He couldn't leave her there. He walked back, reaching his hand to her. And then the door slammed shut. The little girl's eyes widened and she pulled him back down. And then they heard the screaming again. So much screaming. They huddled together and cried, putting their hands over their ears, but they could still hear the screaming. Something started to leak from under the door, like spilled milk, only not as watery. They scrambled away from it. And then he could hear the voices again. And then he screamed when the pain was so intense he thought his head would explode._

"Dean, wake up!" John shook him, slapping him hard, but Dean wouldn't wake up. His eyes were open, but he was clearly still having the nightmare. Sam looked nervously at them, biting on his thumbnail. "Come on, wake up!" John tried again. And then a look of unbelievable pain crossed over Dean's face. He screamed, tears flowing freely from his eyes, and then passed out.

A nurse got there a second later, and about time, too. Sam had called for a nurse when they realized how bad this nightmare had been, but that was almost fifteen minutes ago. The nurse shone a little flashlight in Dean's eyes, taking his pulse, and frowned. She left quickly, only to return with a doctor by her side.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked anxiously, but they just did the medical talk between them, and then the doctor left and the nurse hooked Dean up to another IV. But his brother didn't stay out for long. Seeing him this way, Sam secretly wished Dean would have stayed unconscious a little longer.

Dean opened his eyes. They were heavy, it wasn't easy to get them opened, but it meant it won't be dark anymore, and he didn't want it to be dark. Green Eyes came when it was dark. His head was pounding. It took him a moment to realize his hands were still in the restraints. He groaned, closing his eyes tiredly.

"Dean? You awake, son?" his eyes opened at the sound of his father's voice, but it wasn't his father sitting on his bed, it was Yellow Eyes. Dean gasped, eyes going wide, and tried to get away, fighting his restraints like his life depended on it, because he knew it did. "Dean, relax!" Yellow Eyes told him, "You're hurting yourself!" Dean recoiled at the touch. He wasn't fooled. Yellow Eyes took his father before. He knew it wasn't his dad talking to him, he knew it was the demon. The voices in his head were getting louder now, and he winced at the pain in his head.

"Dean, calm down, it's okay. No one's going to hurt you." Dean heard Sam's voice from his other side, but it wasn't his brother looking down at him, it was _him_, Green Eyes. Dean screamed in pain, breathing hard.

"Dean!" Sam's eyes widened in fear. "Dad!" he looked at his father, who seemed just as scared. Blood was trickling down Dean's nose and ears. His shallow gasps brought blood to his lips.

"Sam, get the doctor, now!" John shouted at him, and Sam bolted out of the room.

* * *

"Dad…" Sam said anxiously. There were almost no nails left for him to bite. 

"He'll be fine, Sammy." John said, trying to sound reassuring but failing miserably. He kept pacing the hall. Dean's been in surgery for nearly two hours now. Excessive internal bleeding, the doctors had told him as they rushed Dean to the OR. Whatever son of a bitch was doing this to his boy was already as good as dead, Colt or no Colt.

"What's happening to him?" Sam asked in a tiny, scared voice.

"I don't know, Sammy." John answered with a heavy heart.

* * *

Dean stared out the window at the piercing blue skies. It looked like a nice day outside. The tops of the trees swayed lightly in the breeze. He couldn't see much more than that from where he was lying. He felt as bad as he did after he had been electrocuted, and figured he must look as bad as he did then, too. He could see it in his father's and his brother's eyes. Maybe it was a good thing. At least, if he died, the pain would stop. Those voices just wouldn't leave him alone. Maybe he was going crazy. Crazy people heard voices, right? Though it usually didn't come with blinding headaches, did it? Sam was hovering around him again, and again he found himself wishing it was Anna. He couldn't believe how much he missed her. They've only spent a couple of weeks together, but letting her leave still seemed like a huge mistake. 

"You know I'm not going to make it through this, right?" Dean asked in a hoarse voice. His throat was sore from all the screaming. Sam turned to him, shocked.

"No!" he said, appalled, "No, you're going to make it, and everything's going to be just fine." Sam said adamantly. Dean didn't look away from the window. Sam always had problems just accepting things. The memories brought a shadow of a grin to his lips. "Dean, no, okay? I don't want to hear you say stuff like that! You can't think like that, okay? You're going to get over this thing. Whatever it is." Sam pushed on. Dean wished he wouldn't talk so much. Those voices were really getting on his nerves by now. The least they could do was say something he could understand, keep him entertained, or at least awake, but no. They just mumbled and spoke gibberish all at once. "Look, just… you need to think of something else, okay?" Sam tried, "Why won't you watch some TV?" he suggested. Dean closed his eyes.

"I don't want to watch TV." He said.

"Okay," Sam lowered the volume on the TV, "Want something to eat? I can run down the street, get you some takeout. You liked it last time, remember?" he tried. Dean groaned. He was hungry, but he didn't have an appetite. "Look, you have to stay positive, okay?" Sam went on, "Think of those kids, they need your help, Dean." He said. Dean took a deep breath, looking out the window again, but Sam got in his way. "Look, I've found some missing kids reports in Iowa. Three little kids went missing in the past three weeks. It could be it. And there are a few missing kids in Arizona, too, but they were teenagers, and you said you saw little kids, right?" Sam went straight to business, knowing his brother wouldn't turn his back on children in need. Dean grunted and Sam went on. "So, I was thinking, maybe the reason I haven't been able to find anything is because it hasn't happened yet." He said, "I mean, I see things before they happen. Maybe this thing is in Iowa, only those kids aren't missing yet, you know?" Dean wondered again if Sam also felt like he was part of the vision, if he also felt like it was all happening to him, but he was too tired to ask, and besides, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Sam, you can stop that, okay?" Dean turned to look at him.

"No, listen, we are going to get to the bottom of this, we're going to find whatever it is that's doing this to you, and we're going to kick its ass!" Sam said stubbornly.

"I meant about the kids." Dean said tiredly, "You can stop looking for the kids." Sam frowned.

"Why?" he asked. Dean was quiet for a long moment. The headache was intolerable. He winced, closing his eyes again, wishing he could press his fingers to his temples to ease the pressure. His wrists hurt now, too, from all the bruising. Dean cleared his throat.

"Because they're dead, Sammy." He said in a small voice.

"You don't know that, not for sure." Sam said quickly, shaking his head. He nodded in Acknowledgement at his father as he came in the room, a brown bag full of take out in his hand, and then shook his head slightly at the question his father didn't ask. John grimaced. They both frowned when Dean's breathing became erratic. "Dean?" Sam asked nervously.

"God, Sammy…" Dean breathed, gritting his teeth against the pain. Well, he got his wish, he supposed. The voices were getting clearer now. They were screaming at him, and for once, they were all saying the same thing. He started to shake, clenching his hands into fists as the screams pierced his head. They were showing him something. It wasn't clear, he couldn't make out what it was. And they kept talking to him, sounding more and more urgent. _Breathe_, they told him. They sounded like Anna. _Draw_.

Dean opened his eyes, still concentrating on the image in his head.

"I need a pen!" he breathed.

"Dean…"

"Now! I need to write this down, quick!" Dean insisted.

"The restraints are staying on." John said sternly.

"No! You don't understand!" Dean shook his head, "Sammy, please… you have to help me!" he cried. Sam hesitated, looking at his dad, who shook his head, clenching his jaw. "Just a pen, Sammy! I'm not asking for a freakin' gun, for crying out loud! Get me a crayon as far as I'm concerned, but please…" Dean breathed, "Sammy, please…" Sam looked intently at him, and then gave him a nod, searching his pockets for a pen.

"Sammy, you're not taking the restraints off! That's an order!" John snapped.

"Just one," Sam said as he started to undo the restraint from around Dean's right wrist. "We could handle it, even if he does try something." Sam said, glancing back at his father. John crossed his arms over his chest, but they all knew that if need be, he was ready to leap at Dean, pinning him down to the bed in a matter of seconds.

Dean grabbed the pen from Sam. There was no paper around, so he turned a little and drew the sigil on the back of his left hand. Seeing what Dean was doing, Sam was quick to find some paper for Dean to draw the sigil on, instead of his hand. That got John's interest. He neared them, eyeing the symbol carefully as Dean drew it again, taking notice of the way Dean drew it; from top to bottom, left to right. He drew it exactly the same both times, the small marks inside it drawn in exactly the same position and order. Once he was done, Dean gave Sam the pen back, lying his head back down and closing his eyes. They were gone. Finally, the voices were gone.

"What is this?" John asked, intrigued.

"I haven't got a clue." Dean said tiredly. He could feel the affect of the headache starting to fade, and soon he was asleep again.

TBC

A/N: This is my favorite chapter so far... What do you think? (Oh, and don't worry, the next chapter _will_ have _some_ answers in it, promise!)


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I don't really like to post this early, because then I keep checking the stats every 30 seconds, but you guys deserve it! Thanks for all the reviews, and keep them coming!

Chapter Fourteen

Things got better for a couple of days; that is to say, John left the hospital looking for any leads about the mysterious sigil Dean had drawn, and Sam was in full research-mode, spending hours with the laptop after rereading John's journal from cover to cover for the nth time. The part that was actually better was Dean. In the couple of days following the drawing of the sigil, Dean had slept almost the entire time, only waking to use the bathroom or eat, before falling asleep again. Finally, he was having some rightfully deserved, nightmare-free sleep. The color was back in his cheeks, the dark circles around his eyes faded, and he was even cracking jokes and flirting with the nurses again. John had cautioned Sam to keep the restraints on, but seeing his brother doing so much better, Sam hadn't had the heart, and he took the restraints off. Dean was ever so grateful, finally able to sleep on his stomach again.

Dean was actually starting to hope that it was all over. There were no more nightmares, no more headaches, no more voices. On the third day he started talking about leaving the hospital. Sam called their father, and was more than a little surprised when the man actually answered, asking him if he thought it was safe to let Dean out of the hospital, informing him that the nightmares and headaches were gone. John told him to wait until he got back, but promised to return as soon as possible. Sam wondered what that meant when his father says it, but still gave Dean the good news.

They spent the day sitting in the tiny sunroom, soaking up some fresh air and sunshine. Sam was so relieved to have his brother again, even if he was being a pain in the ass again. He was still tired though. Sam found it a little strange, after all, his brother had slept for well over twenty hours in the past two days, but he shrugged it off. The past couple of months weren't exactly easy on any of them, least of all Dean. So if his brother wanted to catch a little nap until their dad signed all the papers and got them a motel room, who was he to argue?

* * *

_He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. His heart was beating so hard it was almost all he could hear. Well, at least until she started to cry again. The little girl, Anna. Green Eyes was hurting her. The rest of them were gone. Dead, like mommy. Dean wondered if it was true, what they say, that mommy would be waiting for him in Heaven._

_He looked down at the floor beneath him, legs dangling in the air as he was pinned to the wall. Like he was last year, when Yellow Eyes took mommy away. But now it was Green Eyes that was hurting him, and Dean thought he was so much more scary than Yellow Eyes. He screamed when his flesh was torn apart without anyone of anything touching him. Blood started trickling from his chest, his stomach and his wrist, the cut to his wrist the deepest. Anna was screaming too. And then Green Eyes turned away. He wasn't looking at them anymore, and the pain in his chest eased a little. Dean was scared. He still hoped daddy would come, or at least Alexa's cop daddy. Someone, it didn't matter who, just please, come quick, before it's too late, Dean pleaded wordlessly. But all he could hear were soft voices whispering inside his head, just like then, when Yellow Eyes was there. Anna looked at him. She was on the wall, too, and there was blood coming out of her chest, staining her pink Care Bears shirt. Dean wriggled his hand, trying to hold hers, and she did the same. Their fingers touched, but they were too far. Dean tried again, reaching his hand as far as he could – and she grabbed it in hers. They both winced their eyes shut at the pain. When the pain subsided a little, they were side by side, their hands held fast, the blood trickling from their cut wrists dripping ever so slowly, mingling. It was impossible to tell which drop belonged to whom; every drop contained them both. But the cuts didn't hurt anymore, not when she was holding his hand. And the voices in his head grew louder, clearer._

_Dean didn't understand the words, but the voices repeated them over and over and over. And then Green Eye's gaze was on them again. He seemed surprised that they weren't where he'd left them, even though they were still high up on the wall. Dean knew that now that Green Eyes was coming, the pain would come back, that it would be worse. He was so scared. Anna gave his hand a little squeeze, looking at him. She was trying to tell him something. He could see her lips moving, but he didn't understand what she was trying to say. And then it hit him. She was hearing the voices too! She was so scared, she simply repeated whatever they were saying. Dean copied her, repeating the words, even though he didn't know why he did it. It was a little comforting, something to take his mind off of Green Eyes's glare. And then he could feel something warm beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach. He turned from Anna and looked at Green Eyes, trying to lock his eyes with his own, speaking the words louder, just like Anna did._

_For a moment there, Dean could have sworn Green Eyes seemed scared. He relished at the thought. Dean and Anna kept reciting the foreign words in perfect unison, even though they didn't understand what they meant. They _did _understand that those words were hurting Green Eyes. They could see him shrinking back, crying out in pain and anger. They were both afraid, but they didn't stop, drawing comfort and strength from each other's touch._

_They did it! They hurt Green Eyes! They killed it! Dean looked at Anna and she smiled at him. They both felt so proud, so relieved, so unbelievingly tired, but they didn't let go of each other. Dean never wanted to let go of her hand, not ever. He could take her home with him, and they could play with Sammy together. Or, if he must, he'll send Sammy to live with Anna's parents so that she could come and stay with him. It was all over now, Green Eyes was… angrier than ever._

_With one flick of his hand, Anna was ripped from the wall, ripped from Dean's hand, and tossed across the room – hitting the wall in the adjacent room. Dean heard her cry out in pain. He could feel his own ribs catch on fire, and he groaned. Anna screamed out to him, and then the door separating the two rooms slammed shut._

_"I will deal with you two later." Green Eyes promised, his voice so cold and icy it gave Dean goosebumps._

Dean woke up with a start, breathing hard. The headache was back. He cursed, holding his hand to his temple, and thanking whatever good fortune he still had that neither Sam nor his father were anywhere to be seen. He fell back against the bed, trying to control his breathing, to stop his shivering. He didn't want to stay at the hospital anymore. He had had enough.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam asked, seeing Dean lying with his arm across his face, as if trying to keep the light out of his eyes. "You're having another headache?" Sam asked apprehensively.

"Nah, I'm fine," Dean lied, "just trying to wake up."

"You look really pale," Sam observed, "you sure you're fine?"

"Am I speaking in a language you don't understand here, Sam? I said I was fine!" Dean snapped. Sam eyed him thoughtfully.

"Well, don't start packing just yet," he said slowly, and Dean's eyes shot at him. "Dad got held up checking some lead on that symbol you drew. He just called, said he won't be here until tomorrow morning." Sam said, watching his brother's reaction carefully.

"Well that's just freaking wonderful." Dean muttered. "Another night in the loony motel." Sam frowned. Dean wasn't so irritated before. Irritating, yes, God, yes, but not irritated. He was actually in a really good mood before…

"You had another nightmare." Sam said slowly, coming to stand next to his brother.

"No," Dean said, sitting up in bed, "just a bad dream." He added. Sam didn't believe him, he knew that, but he didn't really care. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that something had happened to Anna, his eyes inadvertently going to his wrist and the scar that was still there. Anna had a scar on her wrist, too. And another just above her right breast. That was where he knew her from. That was what he couldn't remember before, what she needed him to remember. He sucked in his breath when the pieces started to come together, getting off the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sam asked coolly, standing in his way.

"To sign the damn release papers myself." Dean said, pushing him out of the way, but Sam caught him, pushing him back.

"No, you're not." He said assertively. "Dad'll be here tomorrow," He said in a low voice, "you're staying here until he comes back."

"Dude, I'm twenty seven! I'm an adult, I don't need my daddy to get me out of a hospital!" Dean snapped, trying to push Sam out of his way, but Sam wouldn't let him.

"I don't care!" he said, raising his voice. "You had another nightmare, you're not going anywhere!"

"Dude, get off me!" Dean demanded as Sam began to push him back toward the bed.

"You're not going anywhere, Dean," he said warningly, "even if I have to get a dozen nurses to hold you down and sedate you and tie you to the bed, you hear me?" he cried.

"I have to get out of here, Sammy!" Dean yelled back. Sam hesitated.

"We could go back to the sunroom, if you want. The air's a little cooler now, it should help." Sam suggested.

"I'm not having a feakin' panic attack here, Sam, I'm done! I'm out of this place!" Dean said, "There's something I need to do!"

"What?" Sam demanded, but Dean just glared at him. The green-eyed demon was back. He was sure of it. That was what Anna was trying to make him remember. She was hearing the voices too, having the headaches. That's why she was always tired, why she didn't sleep, why she looked so bad. The demon was back, and she needed his help to kill it. And he let her leave. God, he just let her leave! Sam was looking at him, still waiting for an answer, one which, for some reason, Dean found himself unable to give. He just couldn't tell his little brother about the second demon. Sam had had enough on his mind without another demon to deal with. He took a deep breath. He didn't even know where Anna was. She had left him with no way to contact her, probably trying to protect him. He had to find her, but for now, he could start from here.

"Fine," Dean said, sighing, and walked over to the bed, sitting down on it. "then I need you to do something for me."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

_He smiled, the feeling of triumph washing over him, pushing the fear away, laughing at the caution. Anna was smiling back at him, holding his hand. And then the pain was back. Green Eyes was back, and he was pissed off. Within a blink of an eye, Anna was gone. She screamed out his name as she was ripped from his hand, thrown across the air into the room across, and the door slammed shut._

_Every trace of the relief he was feeling just a moment ago was now replaced with mind-numbing terror as Green Eyes glowered at him and he heard Anna scream. He tried to move, but was still pinned high up on the wall. And then Green Eyes was gone, but Dean knew that he was going to come back. He was afraid Green Eyes was going to kill Anna. He fought to be freed of the wall. He couldn't let Green Eyes hurt Anna! He had to get to her, now, and together they could hurt Green Eyes again and run away and never look back. Dean could hear Anna scream out his name, hear her banging on the heavy door. He saw the knob twisting and knew she was on the other side, trying frantically to get back to him._

_Dean started to cry again. He didn't want Green Eyes to come back. He didn't want Green Eyes to hurt Anna. She was banging on the door again. If she only looked around, Dean thought, maybe she could find a window or something. Windows were much easier to break through than doors. And then her banging stopped, and he knew, he _knew_ that she had heard him somehow, that she was looking for a window. Dean closed his eyes, and gasped when he realized he could _see_ what she sees._

_There was a window in the room, all dirty and grimy and _high_. Anna was only four years old, she didn't reach the latch on the top. She couldn't open it. A chair, look for a chair or something to stand on, Dean thought, and she did. She found a little box and shoved it to the window, standing on top of it, but she still wasn't tall enough. She started banging on the window, screaming for help. She felt so scared, so helpless, and Dean felt the same. Anna was crying again, panicking._

_Dean screamed in shock and fear when the front door was kicked open._

_"Daddy!" he cried as the familiar figure rushed in the room, shotgun at hand._

_"Dean!" John cried, his eyes going wide at the sight of his five year old child pinned to the wall and bleeding. He rushed over, trying to pull him down. And then the voices started again, and Dean knew that Green Eyes was back._

_"Daddy, help!" he cried. John looked over his shoulder and gasped, shooting his gun. The loud noise scared Dean, but not nearly as much as Green Eyes. "Daddy!" he screamed. John grabbed him, yanking with all his strength, and with a large heave, pulled Dean free. "Daddy, help!" Dean cried in panic. Green Eyes was there, but his father just held him tight and ran out the door. "No, daddy, wait, go back!" Dean cried. Anna was still there, they had to go back and save Anna!_

_"Shh, son, it's okay. He won't hurt you anymore, I promise." His daddy said, holding him close to his chest as he ran for the Impala. Dean struggled, but his father's hold on him was firm. He shoved Dean in the passenger seat, slamming the door shut, and ran over to the driver's side. The keys were already in the ignition, and he floored the gas pedal all the way down._

_"Daddy, no, go back!" Dean yelled, "You have to go back, you have to save Anna!" John gave him a startled look, but never slowed down. Dean struggled to turn around, getting to his knees and looking out the rear._

_Anna was pounding on the window, she was screaming for him to come back, to help her. And then Green Eyes was right behind her. Dean let out a strangled cry as those evil eyes seemed to lock on his. And then Anna was gone, and all that was left of her was a tiny red handprint on the window._

* * *

Dean woke up shouting Anna's name. Cold sweat was trickling down his brow. He was shivering, breathing hard, and was relieved to discover his hands weren't in the restraints. 

"Dean," Sam looked worriedly at him. It was morning. Very early, but morning nonetheless. Dean jumped out of the bed. "Dean, wait,"

"Where's dad?" Dean demanded. Sam shook his head, startled. "Where the hell is dad, Sam?" Dean cried, grabbing Sam by his shirt.

"He got here about two minutes ago," Sam said, taken aback, "Dean, you need to relax." He said, trying to remain calm. "Dad and I've been talking… We think you should stay here just a little while lo…"

"Like hell I am." Dean snapped, "Where is he?"

"Right here." John said. He was standing in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee. Dean gave him such an angry glare that he found himself taking an involuntary step back. "What is it, Dean?" John asked, and then Dean jumped him. John had to grab him by the wrists to avoid being slammed against the wall by his son's weight and momentum. Dean didn't even notice the steamy hot coffee that spilled on him. He looked angrily at his dad.

"Is it true?" he demanded. John gave him a confused look, glancing at Sam, who shrugged, shaking his head. "Is it?" Dean yelled.

"Dean, calm down,"

"Did you just leave her there?" Dean yelled, giving his father a hard shove, pushing him away. "I told you she was still there, why did you just leave her? Why didn't you go back for her?" he demanded. John looked blankly at him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in a small voice.

"Back in Montana, back when I was five and that thing grabbed me." Dean spat, "You came and I told you there was a little girl still back there, but you didn't even…" his voice broke. It wasn't right. It couldn't be. His father would never leave a child behind to be killed, right? His father had taught him everything he knew, taught him to save people. He would never turn his back on a child in need, right? But still, he did, and the hero image Dean had had of his father just shattered to pieces. "You didn't even slow down…" he accused, shoving his father again, but it was only a light shove. His lower lip trembled and he covered it with his fist. Sam stared, shocked, his eyes going from his father to his brother and back again. "Why?" Dean demanded, "You didn't even _try_ to save her, you just… drove away…" he choked over the words, pushing his father's hands away and turning his back at him.

John was silent for a long time. He couldn't believe Dean still remembered that. He'd spent weeks trying to get his son to speak again after his mother had died, and then after what happened Montana, Dean had stopped talking again. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, and he was deathly scared of closets and of the dark. He had told John he had been hearing voices, talking of green-eyed monsters. The supernatural world was still new to John back then, but he knew enough to know that monsters were real. Especially ones he had seen himself. The doctors recommended pills to help Dean get over his trauma. The sleeping pills made Dean queasy, but also messed with his memory, which was a very desired side-affect. A few months later, he could barely remember the green eyed monster, and John forced himself to forget the splash of blood that splattered on the window that he had seen from the rear view mirror.

"There was nothing I could do." He said eventually.

"You could have _tried_! You just left her there!" Dean accused.

"I was scared, all right?" John snapped at him. "I didn't know then what I know now, it was barely a year after your mother had passed… I…" his voice trailed off. He took a deep breath. "I got you back, that was all I cared about. Losing your mother was bad enough, son, I couldn't stand the thought of losing you, too." He admitted, "And then I got there, and there was… all this blood, all those kids…" he shook his head, "I just thanked God you were still alive. But you were hurt. That thing was coming back, I couldn't risk it." He finished in a small voice. Sam was stunned. His knees gave way and he stumbled onto a chair, shuddering. Dean clenched his fists, looking at his father.

"You have no idea what you've done." He said in a low voice. He and Anna were meant to be together, he knew that now. Just like Jessica and Sam were meant to be together, just like his mom and his dad were meant to be together. That's what the demon had meant, Dean thought, when it had told them it had killed Mary and Jess because they got in the way. With Anna by his side, they could have killed it, kill the demon with the metallic green eyes. Dean had no idea how she could possibly have survived, but the demon was back, and it was after them. Worse, it wasn't alone.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

The silence in the room was deafening. John couldn't bring himself to look at his son's accusing eyes. Sam stared at his hands, trying to absorb what his brother had said, what his father had admitted to. And then a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Dean, when you woke up, you were crying out a woman's name," Sam said breaking the silence. Dean gave him an irritated glare.

"Dude, so not the time now." he told him. Sam got off his seat.

"No, wait, the woman's name was Anna." Sam said quickly. "Did you mean Anna Scott, the woman you asked me to check up on?" Dean gave him a long look.

"Why, 'd'you find something?" he asked. Sam cocked his head to the side.

"Well, there were twenty six Anna Scott I could find," he said, "but I think I can narrow it down." He added. Dean raised a brow. "Was she one of the kids from back then?" Sam asked tentatively. Dean gave a slight nod. Sam was afraid of that. He hesitated a second, and then walked back to where he put the printouts and the laptop. He handed Dean a couple of papers and Dean took them, eyeing Sam before he read them.

The first was an obituary. _Jeffery Scott_, it read, _died at the age of twenty seven while trying to protect his only daughter, Anna. He was survived by his father and older brother, Tom_. The rest of the obituary was quite standard except for the last sentence; _We pray for the recovery of our beloved Anna, may she not join her father for many years to come_. Dean frowned, turning to the second page. It was a newspaper printout, dated 1984. The story on the front page was about the heinous murder of eight young children, found dead in an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. There was clear evidence that the children had been tortured to death. The reporter even ventured to suggest a satanic ritual involved. She mentioned one survivor – four year old Anna Scott, who was found dead at the scene, but was revived by the paramedics and was now being treated at the local hospital in critical condition. A quote from a doctor at said hospital said Anna's condition was touch and go, and asked everyone to pray on her behalf.

"That's all you found?" Dean asked, his voice hoarse. Sam gave him a slight nod. "Well, that's not good enough." Dean said. "I already know what happened to her twenty years ago, I want to contact her now, today!"

"Dean, you don't even know if that girl survived," John said, "I mean, she could be dead for all we know…"

"Well, she's not!" Dean retorted, "She's not dead. You know how I know, dad?" Dean gave his father an angry look, "Because she got me out of the car! She took care of me, protected me, for two weeks! I know because she drove me to meet you!" he cried, "So don't tell me she's…" and that's when he knew. At that moment, he _knew_ that Anna was dead. And that knowledge nearly brought him to his knees. She was dead. That meant he couldn't do it, kill the demon that was now undoubtedly after him. He needed her, they were supposed to do this together!

John quickly steadied him on his feet, taking a deep breath.

"So, what do you want to do now? Find this woman? And then what?" he asked. "We have more important things to do." He said somberly. Dean clenched his jaw, blinking tears out of his eyes and trying to push the thought of never seeing Anna again out of his mind, holding on to the hope that she was still alive. "We have to figure out what's going on with you. We need to figure out what's that sigil that you drew. And we have to figure out who's got our weapons. We need to get our hands back on the Colt, and fast, before…"

"Before what?" Dean snapped, shrinking away from his father. "Before we could go back to hunting the thing that killed mom?" he demanded. John was a little taken aback by the harshness in his son's voice. He blinked, and was about to answer when Dean went on. "Is that really all you care about, dad? Did you really mean it when you said killing the demon comes first, before everything? Before us?" he asked, his voice breaking

"Of course not!" John said quickly, "I love you boys, you know that. I'm doing this to protect you, I've always done this to protect you and your brother." John added, glimpsing at Sam. "You boys mean everything to me." Dean glanced at Sam. He knew his father loved him. Still, it was good to hear him say it every now and then, especially after what happened back at the cabin. "But son, we need the Colt. It's the only way to kill this thing, it's the best way to end this thing once and for all." John gave Dean a squeeze on the shoulder. "We need to keep your brother safe." He added in an undertone, reminding Dean that the demon had had plans for his brother. Dean lowered his eyes, giving a little nod, and then looked back up at his father.

"I have to find her, dad." Dean said simply. "I have to find her just as much as you have to find the Colt." He said, looking his father in the eye.

"You have to get better, that's what you have to do." John said adamantly.

"I won't _get_ better unless I find her!" Dean said urgently. Time was running out. He could feel it. He could ignore the feeling that Anna was dead, but he couldn't ignore the feeling that something was coming, that something was getting ever so close to finding him, and not _just_ him. John studied Dean's face carefully, then frowned.

"You think she has something to do with it." He said slowly, "You think she's trying to get back at you for…"

"No!" Dean said quickly, "No, she wouldn't do that. But I'm pretty sure the same thing's happening to her. I've seen it, I just… I didn't understand it back then." Dean said, rubbing his eyes. He didn't have a headache, and he was rather surprised to realize he wasn't hearing the voices anymore. He took that to mean he was on the right track. At least, that's what he wanted to believe. "She could have answers, dad, and…"

"And what?" John asked when Dean didn't finish his sentence. Dean walked over and sat on the bed, looking at his father.

"I just have to find her, dad." He said in a small voice. John took a deep breath, coming to sit by his sons. He needed to find the Colt. It was the first thing he thought about when he woke up, the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep. He had to bring an end to this twenty year old nightmare. And then, maybe, his sons could finally have the lives he had always wanted them to have. Sammy would go back to school, maybe even have a family of his own, and Dean… He gave a mental sigh. He didn't really know what his oldest wanted to do with his life if it weren't for hunting. There used to be talks of college once. A lifetime ago. His son would have made a great pediatrician. But Dean seemed to have lost the interest, and John doubted that he would regain it. He did know he wanted stability for the boy, he wanted Dean to finally have a home, to see that it really wasn't all dark and scary out there, that there was another way. He wanted the walls around Dean to come down. But first, before he could do that, before he could even start looking for the Colt again, he needed to be sure than Dean was alright. He looked at him.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Right now the only thing that hurts is my wrists." Dean said, grimacing at the sight of the ugly black, blue, green and purple that adorned his wrists, "And even that's not so bad." He added quickly at the worried looks that last sentence got him.

"But you're still having nightmares." John said simply. Dean shook his head with frustration. John nodded lightly. "Alright." He said, getting to his feet. "I'll sign the papers," he said, seeing the light coming back to his son's eyes. "But," he added quickly, "the only thing you're doing today is staying in bed." He said. "I mean it Dean, you're not going anywhere today!" he said sternly, and Dean's face grew darker. "Outside the motel room, that is." John added quickly, and couldn't help the little grin that came to his lips at the look on his son's face. He ruffled Dean's hair before going out of the room to get the release papers signed.

Dean took a deep, relieved breath, stooping down a little. Sam gave him a worried look. Dean wasn't exactly one to be completely honest about his own well-being.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked.

"Like I'm going to throw up." Dean admitted in a small voice. Well, no point in offering him breakfast now, Sam thought to himself. Not knowing what else to say, he offered his brother a smile.

* * *

Dean cried in frustration, tossing his pillow at the TV. There was nothing on, even static was better than some of those shows. Sam glanced at him, grinning, and went back to working on his laptop. He needed to know more, he had to find out what had happened to his brother twenty two years ago, and it was painfully obvious that neither his father nor his brother were going to say another word about it. Sam had found several articles about the 'horrendous murders' of eight little kids, and even one more article about Anna – a human interest story about the four year old girl still fighting for her life. But knowing his family and remembering his father's words, Sam knew there was more to it than that. He tried to find other cases resembling that one, and came up with twelve more over the years, as far back as a hundred and fifty years previously - which was as far back as the records went. Only no one survived those. As far as he could tell, his brother and that Anna person were the only ones to have survived whatever creature was doing this to those poor kids. He looked up as Dean got out of bed. 

"Dean…"

"Relax, little brother, just going to the bathroom. I _am_ allowed to go to the bathroom, right?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Jerk." He muttered. Dean grinned.

"Jerk wannabe." He said, disappearing in the bathroom. He seemed better. Much better now that he'd finally shaved and changed out of those ridiculous sweats he was wearing. Sam went back to his research when he heard the sound of the shower running. Fifteen minutes later, Dean came out of the shower dressed only in his jeans. He searched his duffle bag for a clean shirt and Sam berated himself for forgetting to wash his brother's clothes as well.

Finding the shirt he was looking for, Dean put it on and slumped on the bed, looking at Sam.

"Whatcha doin'?" Dean asked, and Sam groaned. Dean was bored, and when Dean was bored, he used to get on Sam's nerves just for entertainment. This time, Sam decided he would lend the first punch.

"I'm looking for more cases of children being sacrificed. At least, I think that's what it was," he said, studying his older brother's expression. "Not much to go on, you know." He shrugged. Dean was quiet for a moment, and Sam honestly thought he was going to leave him alone to continue his research, but then Dean spoke.

"You think it was a sacrifice?" he asked thoughtfully. Sam shrugged.

"I don't know. Looks like." He said, "I mean, from what I've found out so far, all those kids weren't just tortured to death, they were all killed the same way. There's a pattern. I just can't find a reason for the time and place. Those don't seem to make sense." Sam said, "I mean, there's no specific date or area, no visible reason for the places, no special reason for the time…" he trailed off, glancing at Dean, "At least not unless you can give me something more to go on." He added. Dean stared at him for a long moment before getting off the bed.

"I'm going out for takeout. Want anything?" he said, heading for the door, and Sam cursed when he nearly dropped the computer getting up as he rushed after his brother.

"You're not going anywhere!" he said, bee-lining towards the door as his brother put his jacket on. "Dean, dad says you have to stay here." Sam said, painfully aware that he was sounding like a five-year-old. Dean gave him an amused look.

"Since when do you listen to what dad says?" he asked, but Sam stopped him before he had the chance to get out the door. "Move, Sammy." Dean said, but Sam didn't.

"It's Sam, jerk." He said.

"You really would want to get out of my way right about now, Sam." Dean said in a low voice. _What the hell happened back then? What happened to you? And why's it affecting you so much now?_ Sam wanted to scream at his brother, but he knew better.

"There's a good restaurant not far from here," he said instead, grabbing his own jacket, "food's practically home-cooked." He said, "Come on, I'll walk with you."

"I don't need a babysitter." Dean snapped, "Especially not my baby brother!"

"What, you think you're the only one that's hungry?" Sam asked as they got out the door, "Besides, the only baby I see around here is you."

"Shut up, I'm still mad at you for screwing up my car!" Dean gave him a light shove.

"Hey! Demon induced accident, remember! Not my fault!" Sam defended himself.

"That's crap and you know it!" Dean snapped, "I had plenty of baddies breathing down my neck over the years and _I_ managed to keep my baby in one piece!" he said, but there wasn't any real anger to his voice.

"Well, it's still in one piece!" Sam said indignantly. "Mostly…" he added a second later at Dean's glare.

"You owe me a car!" Dean said, "And it'd better be a classic, or I'll just turn around and run you over." He said.

* * *

Sam decided that coming to the restaurant with his brother was probably one of the best moves he'd made in a long time. Dean was back to his old self; cocky, flirty and in a good mood. He scored the waitress's phone number before they even got their food. It was great seeing his brother on top of his game again, even if he was acting like an obnoxious pain in the ass. Yes, sometimes repression was good enough. They left the restaurant only after Dean's gotten another waitress's phone number, and the number of the woman sitting at the table across from them – for Sam, or so he said. Sam could swear getting women's phone numbers was a sport in his older brother's book. Sam had to admit, he did have a knack for it. 

They both stopped at the motel room door, painfully aware of the car that hadn't been there before. The car that wasn't supposed to be there until much, much later. Sam couldn't help but feeling nervous, but Dean just stepped in front of him, opening the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sam's face turned red at his father's voice.

"Out." Dean said simply, slumping on his bed, lifting his legs up and folding his hands under his head. "Man, that was great food." He said, "Oh, and those waitresses…" he let out a small whistle, "Man, I've been missing out!" he grinned.

"You think I'm joking with you?" John sounded livid. "You weren't supposed to leave this room!" he shouted, "You promised me you would stay in bed!" his eyes turned to Sam and Sam suddenly felt like he was fifteen years old again and had been caught sneaking out of the house. "And you! You were supposed to be watching him!" John yelled.

"He was." Dean said quickly, coming to Sam's rescue. "He was right there with me." John's angry glare went to him, and Dean's cocky grin faded instantly.

"I told you to stay in the room!" he hissed.

"Well, I got a little claustrophobic." Dean lied. _And very bored_, he thought, but didn't dare say that out loud. He lowered his eyes, feeling uncomfortable under his father's scrutinizing glare, but finally John turned from him.

"You have any idea how worried you boys made me?" he accused in a small voice, slumping onto a chair. Sam grimaced.

"Sorry," he offered, knowing it wasn't enough. "So, did you find anything about that symbol?" he asked. John shook his head and Dean glanced at the remaining of the faded symbol on the back of his hand.

"No. Not a damn thing." He said, running his hands over his face. "Joshua thinks he might know something, but I guess it'll have to wait."

"Wait? Why?" Dean asked. John eyed him.

"You wanted to go look for that girl." He reminded his oldest.

"Yeah, I know, what's that got to do with this?" Dean asked. John and Sam both stared at him, a little confused, and then John understood.

"If you think I'm letting you go alone, you're really out of your mind!" he snapped, jumping to his feet.

"Dad, it's not like I'm going off to fight some demon!" Dean said quickly as he too got to his feet, even though he knew he was probably lying.

"You're not going by yourself, and that's an order!" Sam thought he could practically see the sparks flying when his father's gaze clashed with that of his brother's.

"Yes, I am." Dean said in a low voice.

"Don't push me, Dean!" John cautioned. And then Sam got his first taste of what his brother had been through all those years when he had been caught in the middle between his father and himself in their endless fights. Sam found himself caught between not wanting Dean to go off on his own - especially when they still had no idea what was happening to him, how to stop it, or when it was going to strike again – and understanding his brother's wishes to find the answers he was seeking on his own. Sam found he had a whole new appreciation of his older brother now.

TBC

A/N: If you're wondering how Sam knew the accident was caused by a demon, I don't really care. He had had a vision that I never bothered developing, so maybe that was it. Or not. I still thought it was a little funny... Please review!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"Dean, wait!" Sam called out after his brother as Dean stormed out of the motel room. Sam quickened his step, coming to walk beside his brother, who still seemed angry. There was something more, Sam knew, something must have triggered that outburst of defiance that Dean would never have had otherwise, and Sam was worried.

"I need to find her Sam." Dean said curtly.

"Yeah," Sam said simply, "So, I was thinking, the obituary said something about her dad having an older brother. Maybe he's still alive, maybe he'll know where she is." Dean stopped abruptly, looking at his younger brother suspiciously. "His name's Tom Scott, right? And we know her dad died in Montana, we could start there." Sam suggested. Dean studied him, trying to ascertain if his brother was genuine in his offer, or if he was just trying to manipulate him into not leaving.

"He's still alive, but he's not in Montana," Dean said finally. "He was with Anna when I was there." He explained at seeing Sam's questioning look. "But I doubt he'll still be there. I think the place was a safe-house or something. She said she had to leave, I doubt she'd go back there. She brought me back because she didn't think it was safe anymore." He said, and Sam nodded lightly.

"Well, we could still go there, ask around. Maybe someone knows something." He said, taking the car keys out of his pocket. Dean snatched the keys from his hand, walking over to the car. "So, all those nightmares you've been having, they were just bad memories?" Sam asked, and then cursed himself at the stupid question. Bad didn't even start to cover it. Dean glanced at him, but said nothing. "You want to talk about it?" Sam offered in a small voice. He looked away, but he could practically see Dean rolling his eyes. He grinned. "You know, I think I should drive." Sam said, catching Dean's eyes as they got to the car.

"Sure you do." Dean said, unlocking the car and opening the driver side door. "But you're not coming with me." He said. This wasn't a game, this was dangerous, and there was no way he was putting his baby brother in the middle of all this. Sam had had enough on his plate as it was.

"Yeah, I know, 'cause I'll totally ruin your good mood." Sam teased, leaning against the car and eyeing his brother.

"Oh, please, look whose talking, Mr. Broody McSullen." Dean said, but there was a twinge of humor in his voice.

"Yeah, right, that coming from the tough guy whose favorite movie is the Disney version of 'The Little Mermaid'". Sam smirked.

"Is not!" Dean said quickly. "You just kept asking to see it." he added and Sam smirked. "Besides, that Ariel chick was hot." he muttered quietly, but not quietly enough because Sam burst out laughing.

"Dude, she's a cartoon!" he laughed. Dean glared at him, but his frown quickly melted into a grin.

"Well, you wanted to marry Winnie the Pooh, freak. And he was a _boy_ bear!" Dean retorted. Sam blinked for a moment, and then started laughing again.

"Shut up! No way! You're totally making it up!" he laughed.

"Did too. You made me wash that stupid red shirt every day so you could wear it to school. The same stupid red shirt, _every_ freaking day!" Dean rolled his eyes and Sam sniggered, reaching over and opening the passenger side door, but as he looked up at his brother, he found that Dean's grin was gone.

"I can't let you come, Sammy." Dean said, all lightheartedness gone from his voice and demeanor. Sam got in the car.

"Like I'm really asking." He said, and waited for Dean to get in. Sighing, Dean got in the car, but he didn't start it.

"I'm serious here, Sam. You're not coming with me." Dean said, looking at Sam.

"Says you." Sam said, putting his seatbelt on. Dean rolled his eyes. He didn't know exactly what was going to happen next, but he had quite an idea. The demon that killed their mother, that killed Jess - it wasn't the only one out there. Like Sam had said in Lawrence, it just felt like something's starting. Something bigger and nastier than Dean dared imagine. Green Eyes was back, that much Dean was sure of, and now that Yellow Eyes had finally admitted he had plans for Sam… Dean didn't even want to guess what the other two had in mind. He only knew that it was his job, his responsibility to keep his little brother safe. He had to keep hoping that Anna was still alive, that together they could kill Green Eyes, and maybe even hurt the others. But he needed Sam to stay out of it, he needed to know Sam was safe. "I'm not letting you do this alone, Dean, so just forget it!" Sam said, and Dean looked at him and sighed.

"You have your demon to deal with, Sam, and I have mine." He said, and Sam frowned.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Sam cried, but Dean just looked away.

"Sam…"

"Look, if you're just gonna sit there, then move over and let me drive." Sam said quickly, "And I'm picking the music!" he added. Dean stared at him for a long moment before starting the car.

"Like hell you are," he said, "you're just gonna pick some chick music. I'm gonna crash the car listening to that crap!" he said as he started to drive and Sam started playing with the radio.

"What are you talking about? Kelly Clarkson's really good." He said, and Dean rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically.

"Oh, Sammy, Sammy, where _have_ I gone wrong with you?"

* * *

"Whatcha doing?" Sam dropped his cell phone, cursing inwardly. _Busted_! He gave Dean his most innocent look as he picked his cell back up from the floor. 

"Nothin'." He said, hoping Dean won't notice the 'oh, shit' tone in his voice. Dean glanced at him for a second, then returned his eyes to the road ahead.

"Who're you calling?" he asked.

"No one." Sam said, a little too quickly, and cursed himself again at the look he got from Dean. _Think of something! Come on, some legitimate excuse for using the phone… Now would be a good time to start talking, Sam… Dammit!_ Sam's mind raced. "I'm not calling anyone," Sam said, trying to buy some more time as his mind kept searching for a good excuse. "I'm texting." He added a couple of seconds later. _Good save, Sam, what are you an idiot? Think! A good, perfectly acceptable reason you would use the phone right now… _Dean raised a brow, looking questioningly at him. "See, um, I'm still working on that sigil thing," Sam stuttered. _Yeah, that might work._ "And um, while I was surfing online, I found this site about this guy that specializes in ancient iconology…" _Good thing he didn't read 'The Da Vinci Code' _Sam thought to himself as he went on, "So, um, I thought, you know, maybe the guy would know something." Dean gave him a skeptic look. _Dammit!_ Sam thought.

"Really?" Dean asked, and Sam looked at him with the most innocent look he could muster, "An online website? Haven't you learned anything, college boy?" Sam gave a mental sigh of relief.

"Well, it's not like we have anything else to go on, right?" he asked, and counted his blessings when Dean didn't say a thing.

"Then why the texting?" Dean asked a couple of seconds later. Sam hoped Dean didn't notice him cringing.

"What do you mean?" he tried.

"Why not just talk to the guy, or e-mail him. Why the texting?" Dean inquired. _Dammit! _Sam's heart was racing now. _Now? Dean had to choose now to be so damn smart and pay attention?_

"Well, um…" _library! _"He's in a library right now. You know, no talking and everything." Sam stuttered. Dean looked suspiciously at him.

"This guy's got anything interesting?" he asked.

"Um, well, no. Not so far, at least. See, he keeps asking me to describe it again to make sure he got it right. That's why I keep texting." Sam said. _Hey, that's believable, right?_

"He's texting you back?" Dean asked, and Sam could feel his palms getting sweaty. Lying to Dean was an art he hadn't quite mastered yet.

"Yeah, that's right." Sam nodded, looking out the window, feeling hot under his brother's scrutinizing gaze.

"Then how come I didn't hear anything?" Dean asked, and Sam cursed again, this time at length, thinking bitterly that Dean would probably be amused by his new vocabulary.

"Oh, I have my cell on vibrate." Sam said quickly, "See, he's texting me now." He said, pretending to read a new text message. "Nope. Still nothing." He told his brother, quickly typing a new message – _I got caught_ – and sending it to his father.

As much as Sam wanted to show his support of his older brother, he couldn't help but agreeing with his father than Dean mustn't go alone. Since Dean practically reenacted the fight he had had with his father before leaving for college, well, to a degree at least, Sam thought it better to let Dean think he was okay with it, hoping Dean would let him come along. Sam had been texting his father ever since they got out of town, sending him directions on where they were going so that the older Winchester could stay on their tracks. Sam had no idea where they were driving, and it seemed to him that neither did Dean. Still, knowing his father was not too far behind in a stolen car was somewhat comforting.

Sam yelped, bracing himself and wincing as the seatbelt bit into his flesh. Dean pushed the breaks so hard and so suddenly, Sam was rather surprised no one rammed them from the rear. He looked over at his brother, his heart beating fast, wondering why the hell Dean stopped the car all of a sudden. He understood immediately, seeing the look of anguish on his brother's face as his hands pressed hard against his temples. Dean was having another headache, and it looked like a killer one. Sam gasped, calling out Dean's name as blood started dripping from his brother's nose, but Dean didn't seem to have heard him. Not sure what to do, Sam quickly called his father.

* * *

The headache blindsided him, but luckily, he was able to stop the car before he completely lost control. He cursed, gritting his teeth against the pain of the headache as well as the screams in his head. And then it all went dark. 

_He was staring at a ceiling when he came to; his arms and legs spread out in a star shape. Every single cell in his body screamed in unbelievable pain. Tears fell down the sides of his face as he struggled to breathe, choking on his own blood. They were there, looking down at him. Green Eyes wasn't there, but the others all were. They weren't supposed to be there, not all of them together. He never expected them to all be there at the same time. The demon with the red eyes, the one that's been breathing down his neck, pointed the Colt at him, and Dean closed his eyes, praying for the blessed bullet to end his suffering. He could hear the shot, but it didn't kill him. The demons around him seemed to find it amusing. They were talking. He tried to listen, he knew it was important, but his mind simply couldn't register the words over the haze of pain. They wanted something from him, they wanted him to tell them where someone was. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. And so they made sure he suffered for it. Dean knew he was taking his last breath. And then he closed his eyes and waited for the darkness to take the pain away._

"Dean!" Dean opened his eyes, cursing his brother for bringing him back from the relief the darkness provided him. He groaned, closing his eyes again. "Dean, come on, buddy, look at me!" Sam sounded panicked. Dean took a shallow breath and turned to look at his brother. Sam was pale, there was almost no color in his cheeks. He seemed really freaked out. Dean had to protect him, he had to find out what the danger was that freaked his brother so much, and protect him from it, but for some reason, his body wouldn't listen. He had to fight with all his might just to turn his head so he could look at Sam better. "That's it, deep breaths." Sam said in a shaky voice, "You're going to be okay, I'm going to make sure of that, alright?" he said worriedly. "Look, I'm going to help you to the passenger seat, and then I'm taking you back to the hospital, okay? Just hold on, Dean." Sam said and opened the car door. Dean closed his eyes again, his mind still far too slow. He was shaking all over. What the hell was that? It was horrible, he never felt such pain before, such absolute terror. This hasn't happened before. He was alive, so it definitely never happened before. Maybe he was actually getting a vision, just like Sam. Only, it didn't feel like a vision. It felt more like… He sucked in his breath. It felt like he was dying, really dying, and yet he knew it wasn't him. It was someone else, someone whose blood was mingled with his. Anna. And then his mind snapped back to action in full alert mode. He knew now, she told him all he needed to know about how to find her, and she tried to warn him. She warned him about the other demons being there, she warned him that they had the Colt, she warned him to stay away – but he couldn't. Even knowing that she was dead, he still had to get to her. He grabbed the driver's side door just as Sam pulled it open, and pulled it closed again.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked apprehensively, "It's me, I'm just trying to help you!"

"I know, Sammy," Dean said, his hands still shaking from the images he had just seen, "but I can't let you." He added.

"What?" Sam shrieked, pulling at the door with all his might, "Dean, you're not thinking straight, I have to get you to a hospital, now!" Sam cried, but Dean held the door closed. It was too difficult and completely pointless. He didn't have the time for this. Letting go of the door, which was yanked open, sending the surprised Sam back a step or two, Dean started the car, flooring the gas pedal all the way through. _Sorry, Sammy_, Dean whispered as he drove away leaving his kid brother behind, _I can't let you come. I can't let them have you, too_.

* * *

John pulled the car over, seeing his youngest standing in the middle of nowhere, a freaked out look still on his face. He had called John just moments earlier, telling him that Dean had passed out again, and that he was bleeding from his nose again. John ordered his youngest to stay calm and do his best to try and wake his brother up. Seeing Sam there with no Dean and no car, John had figured Sam was successful in reviving his brother. 

"Sammy, what happened?" John asked, his voice bringing Sam back form his reverie. Sam quickly climbed into the passenger seat next to his father.

"He's gone." He said in a haunted voice.

"Gone? What do you mean gone?" John said and Sam hissed in pain, wincing and bringing his hands to his temples. He was having a vision. "Sammy?" his father's voice didn't even register. All he saw was his brother.

"He went out to get the demon," Sam cried, still seeing fragments of pictures, hearing fragments of voices, and seeing his brother bleed, fire engulfing him. "He knows where it is!" Sam said, gritting his teeth against the pain. John cursed.

"Where? Where, Sammy?" he demanded. Sam took a deep breath, trying to relieve the pain, and gave his father the address. The car left skid marks as it sped away.

TBC

A/N: Come on, people, seriously review deprived here... And only two more chapters to go...


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Dean watched the dark house for a long time, not really wanting to go in, but knowing that he had to. He hadn't seen any signs of the demons there. A tiny voice at the back of his head wished that maybe they won't be there anymore, now that they've killed Anna, but he knew better than that. They were there, waiting. They had Anna, they had the Colt, and they had answers. Dean closed his eyes.

_"Daddy, daddy!" the little blond boy ran into his arms and he scooped him up. "Are you going to play with me, daddy?" the little boy asked, and he told him that he would. They played T-ball in the back yard for a while. The little boy was good, and damn if he didn't have enough energy to light up an entire city, but it was so much fun to watch him. They laughed and fooled around and he even taught the boy how to throw a curve ball. The little squirt almost got it, it was close enough._

_"Okay, time for dinner. Why won't you go wash up?" he heard himself say._

_"Okay daddy." The little boy answered, running back in the house. That's when he noticed her, noticed Anna standing at the door and looking at him, an amused smile on her lips. She seemed very pregnant from where he was standing._

_"I swear, I don't know who's having more fun doing this, you or him." She smiled at him as he walked over and kissed her, putting his hand over her belly. "He's not kicking right now." She said, and he felt a little disappointed. "Go on, wash up. Dinner's ready." She said, kissing him._

Dean opened his eyes again. It felt so bad knowing he would never have that, knowing that he was supposed to have it, and that it was gone. He never even got the chance to really get to know her.

Steeling himself for what he knew he was about to see, Dean pushed himself away from the car and walked over to the old house.

It was unlocked. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be anxious or relieved by that, and decided on cautious instead. The door creaked a little when he pushed it open, and he cringed, cursing himself. He waited a moment to make sure nothing was happening before going inside.

It was dark inside, but there was light coming from a distant room, lighting the hallway just enough for him not go get his head slammed against any walls. The smell of death hung in the air, suffocating. He slipped on something. Hesitating, he crouched to see what it was, and quickly regretted it. Blood. It was blood. Two lines of symbols drawn in blood made a path for him to follow. They were waiting for him. He knew that, but something still compelled him to go on. There was something Anna still needed him to know.

Dean followed the path drawn in Anna's blood, trying not to think about the pain it had caused her. His blood boiled with rage.

He could see her now, her body spread in the star shape he had seen, lying in a pool of her own blood. Her face was contorted in pain. It seemed even death itself wasn't merciful enough to grant her peace. His eyes stung and he pushed the tears back. Now wasn't the time. He could sense them around him, the three of them. But he didn't feel Green Eyes there. There were only three where there should have been four. That's what she tried to tell him.

"She killed it, didn't she?" he asked, his eyes still on her tortured body. "Your little demon friend, with the freaky green eyes?" the red eyes were the first to catch his attention. They were just as bad as the green ones. Maybe even more so. The red eyed demon stepped out of the darkness. It seemed amused, and that only fueled Dean's anger farther.

"Well, as you can see," it said, pointing at Anna's dead body, "it's true what they say. No good deed goes unpunished." It smirked, and the voices came to life in Dean's head. Now no longer distant, they all spoke the same foreign words. Dean looked at the demon with eyes filled with hate.

"I'm going to kill you!" he said in a low voice through gritted teeth. The demon really didn't seem to be impressed.

"The only reason you're alive now, boy, is because we wanted to thank you." Someone said from behind him. Dean turned his eyes and saw it for the first time. The demon with the silvery eyes. It seemed smaller than the rest of them, but in no way any less frightening. It radiated fear and malice.

"For what?" Dean demanded. Red Eyes smiled, motioning at Anna again.

"For this gift." It said. "We've been searching for her for a very long time." Dean frowned. "She was a loose end. We don't like loose ends." It went on, "You were never supposed to meet her."

"That's why we allowed her to kill 'our friend'." Silver Eyes said, and Dean knew he was lying. They never expected her to kill Green Eyes. They had no idea she was strong enough to kill it on her own. He wondered if he was strong enough to kill them all.

"You know, it's quite a shame, really." Dean turned his eyes to the other side, his rage threatening to rob him of his self control as he gazed into those hated Yellow Eyes. "Your brother could have saved you a lot of trouble if he'd only grown a pair and pulled the trigger." Yellow Eyes was rather amused himself. "But than again, it was you who told him not to shoot daddy, wasn't it?" Dean gritted his teeth.

"We going to get this thing started any time soon?" he asked impatiently.

"No, not really." Red Eyes said, and Dean's eyes went to him. "We didn't bring you here to kill you boy. Not yet."

"Than why did you?" Dean found himself asking. He was pretty sure it was Anna that brought him there, and that thought that it wasn't was quite alarming.

"We have other uses for you." Silver Eyes said, and Dean glowered at him.

"You are quite useful, boy." Yellow Eyes said, showing him the Colt. "I really should thank you for this little toy. And for the other." Dean frowned. _What other?_ He sucked in his breath. _Sam!_

"You're never going to lay a hand on my brother! You hear me? I will kill you, you sonofabitch!" Yellow Eyes seemed as impressed as Red Eyes, which was none at all. Dean cried out at the sharp pain in his gut. Blood started gashing from the deep laceration in rivulets.

"Oh, don't worry." Red Eyes said, nearing him, putting its hands on Dean's shoulders and steadying him, "We won't kill you." He promised. "No, I have plans for you boy. First borns. A little fetish of mine." He smirked. "And whatever it was your dear mommy may have done to protect you won't help," it whispered in Dean's ear, "not for what I have planned."

"And it would be so rewarding to have your brother see you like this." Yellow Eyes added, nearing him as well.

"See, just because we're not going to kill you, doesn't mean we're not going to have our fun." Silver Eyes contributed, closing in. And Dean screamed at the pain. He couldn't let them do it, he couldn't let them hurt Sammy. He had to protect Sammy. With the last of his strength and all his fury, he repeated the words the voices were urging him to repeat.

* * *

Dean fought to open his eyes and looked up at the white ceiling. Again. Now, that was really getting old. He felt tired, heavy, worn out. He tried to move his hand and was relieved to find it unrestrained. With great effort, he managed to turn his head a little. There were strange sounds around him; beeping and wheezing and mumbling. The mumbling slowly became distant words. Someone was talking, but they weren't talking to him. He closed his eyes, too tired to keep them open. His throat was beyond dry. He tried to salivate just so he'd have something to wet his throat with and was shocked to realize there was a tube down his throat. _Just great_. He tried looking around again, but he was just so damn tired. And then he succumbed to sleep once more. 

The next time he opened his eyes, he knew he wasn't alone. Someone was there with him. He tried to make a sound, but no voice came out. He was still tired, but not nearly as tired as he had been before. Moving his head was not as difficult as it had been before, either, and now he could see who was there with him. Sammy. Dean reached his hand, touching his brother's hand gingerly, and the younger Winchester shot up, straightening.

"Dean!" he cried, "Thank God, you're awake!" Sam's bloodshot eyes watered. Dean could do nothing but squeeze his brother's fingers lightly, the tube down his throat preventing him from speaking. "It's okay, you're okay." Sam said, and tears started streaking down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away with the back of his hands. "I'm gonna go get a doctor, you stay conscious, you hear me big brother?" Sam said, getting up. Dean squeezed his fingers again. He didn't want Sam to leave, but Sam misinterpreted the squeeze. He squeezed Dean's hand back and quickly left Dean's line of sight. Dean couldn't even sigh. He just lay there, trying his best to keep his eyes open, and waited for his brother to come back. But it wasn't his brother that came back, it was the doctors. They poked and prodded him, and he tried, he really tried, but he just couldn't stay awake.

The third time Dean opened his eyes, the tube was gone from his throat. He still felt like crap, but it was easier to keep his eyes open this time. This time, it was his father, and not his brother, sitting by his side.

"Dad?" Dean mouthed the word, his voice still annoyingly absent. He reached his hand to touch his old man's, jerking him out of his musings.

"Dean," he couldn't even remember when he'd last heard his father speak his name so tenderly. Something must have gone terribly wrong if his father was being so emotional. He tried asking what happened, but his father hushed him, turning back and talking to someone outside Dean's line of sight. "It's okay, son." John said, stroking Dean's hair, "We've got you now." And then the doctors were there again, but this time, he had managed to stay awake until they were gone. Someone helped him to a drink of water and rearranged his pillow. Dean was quickly growing more and more tired, but he wanted to see his father again.

Both Sam and his father were there once the doctors left, both looking like they haven't slept in days.

"What's wrong?" Dean croaked, coughing. God, that hurt.

"It's okay, you're going to be just fine," his father promised him, but that wasn't all that encouraging. Dean tried to remember what happened, and then remembered Anna. And then the demons. And then the pain. But he didn't remember ever getting out of that house.

"What happened?" he asked hoarsely.

"You need to rest." His father told him, "Everything else can wait." And so Dean listened.

The next time Dean woke up, he was in a different room, and the wheezing sound was gone. The beeping, however, kept annoying him. Dean looked around him to find Sam sleeping not far from him, next to his dad, who was writing something in his journal. _Had they gone hunting without him?_ He wondered. He coughed, feeling his throat dry again, and his father's eyes shot his way. He quickly came over, pouring him a glass of water and helping Dean sip it slowly.

"How are you feeling there, kiddo?" John asked apprehensively.

"Like someone ran me over, and then dropped a Foltzwagen full of elephants on top of me." Dean rasped. A sliver of a smile crossed his father's lips, quickly disappearing.

"I think that would actually have been better." He said somberly.

"Oh, yeah?" Dean closed his eyes tiredly.

"You do realize I'm gonna tear you a new one for going up against the demon alone once you feel better, right?" his dad continued. Dean grinned tiredly. He swallowed a couple of times, wetting his throat a little.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You tell me." John said seriously, sitting next to him, but Dean couldn't answer the question. All he remembered was Anna. And the little blond kid. His kid. The one that will never be. His father sighed. "Well, all I know, is that you had an insanity attack and you decided for some reason that it was okay for you to go after the demon on your own." He said. "Sammy and I got there as fast as we could, but you were already…" his voice broke, his eyes watered, "That was really stupid of you, you know that, right?" John demanded. "You will never do anything remotely this stupid ever again. This is a direct order, young man, do you understand?" he said gruffly, but there was a quiver to his voice.

"The demon?" Dean asked hopefully.

"It must have gotten away by the time we got there." John said. "What the hell were you thinking, Dean?" he demanded, not really expecting an answer. "You nearly died." John said in a small voice. "Dammit! I nearly lost you." Dean couldn't believe his father was actually crying. "You weren't breathing, you didn't have a pulse… The whole place was burning to the ground! Had this hospital been just a little farther, you would have been gone!" his father accused. Dean was a little confused. They said they wouldn't kill him, they said they had plans for him… And then he remembered. The voices. The words he chanted over and over until he couldn't breathe anymore. He was hurting them. Not much, but enough to keep them away. And they fought back. Not much, but with his exhaustion and his injuries, it was enough, and he blacked out.

"It wasn't the demon." Dean managed, and his father cocked his brow.

"Come again?" he asked.

"It wasn't _the_ demon." Dean repeated hoarsely. "It was another." He managed just barely. His father's face grew darker and he frowned.

"You need to rest now, Dean." He said, running his fingers through Dean's short hair.

"They have the Colt, dad." Dean croaked, "I'm sorry," Was the last thing he managed to say before exhaustion took over again.

* * *

Dean had to stay at the hospital for three weeks, his father refusing to yield and sign the release papers until the doctors told him it was okay. The first week and a half Dean didn't mind so much. He was too out of it to notice. But the second week and a half, well, then he was just plain bored. Tired, but bored. His headaches were gone, and he didn't hear the voices anymore. There were no more nightmares, either, but Dean knew it wasn't over. It was far from being over. It was only just beginning. Something big was starting to happen; something evil and terrible. What they've faced so far was nearly the tip of the iceberg. He grinned at the cliché, imagining himself standing on the hood of the Impala, his arms stretched to his sides, shouting 'I'm the king of the road' with a couple of bikini-clad chicks waiting in the backseat... 

Having nothing else to do, he tried to help Sam find the meaning of the symbol he had drawn. They still had no idea what it meant, but even that was growing irritating. And how come there was never anything good on TV when you needed there to be, but once you were gone, all your favorite movies came on? That just sucked out loud.

They didn't feel like staying there anymore after Dean was release from the hospital. Sam and Dean both waited in the car while their dad went over to return the key to their motel room. Sitting there in the air conditioned car, listening to music coming out of the digital radio that came equipped with a CD changer, seeing the stupid airbags sticker and having so much room for his feet just seemed so wrong to Dean. He missed the Impala, feeling like he was missing a limb; he knew it was gone, but he could still feel it sometimes. And every time he did, he punched Sam hard on the shoulder.

"What's taking so long?" he muttered, staring impatiently out the window.

"I don't know." Sam answered in a small voice, "Want me to go find out?" he offered, but just as Dean was about to answer, his father came out of the main office, struggling to carry a very large, heavy looking suitcase. Dean wrinkled his brow as Sam stepped out of the car to help his father, Dean following more slowly.

"The hell is this?" Dean asked. The suitcase's lock was picked in no time, and all three Winchesters gasped. Their weapons. Well, most their weapons, at least. Whatever could fit in the suitcase was there; guns, knives, stakes, holy water bottles, their fake IDs, ammo – even silver bullets. The three men exchanged glances.

"Do you know where this came from?" Sam asked his father.

"Not a clue." The oldest Winchester admitted. There was no note, nothing that would suggest how they got their things back or who brought it to them. And then John remembered something, his hand reaching for the inner pocket of his jacket as he took out an envelope and watched it carefully.

"What's this?" Sam asked. John glanced at him and then reached the envelope to Dean, who raised a brow and took it from his dad. The envelope was sealed. It had his name on it, his first name, and nothing more.

"Where did this come from?" Dean asked his dad. John shrugged.

"I asked that, too, but the guy just told me some UPS guy brought it over a couple of days ago, giving him a room number and telling him not to open it."

"But we only checked in this place after Dean…" Sam started.

"I know." John said, looking intently at his son. "Are you going to open it?" he asked. Just touching the envelope brought the voices back, but they were very distant. They whispered memories of Anna. The letter was from her.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not now."

"Why not?" Sam asked, but Dean walked back to the car.

"So are we going, or what?" he asked, getting inside.

TBC

A/N: Finally, the light at the end of the tunnel… Only a couple of loose ends left, for one last chapter… Pleeeaaase review, it keeps me going!


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Dean lay awake in bed. It was nearly three in the morning, but he couldn't sleep. He turned, looking at his father. Finally, the big guy was asleep. Straining his ears, Dean could hear the even breaths coming from his brother's bed. Good, Sammy was also asleep. Getting up slowly, careful not to make a sound, Dean got out of bed and reached for his jacket, taking the letter out of his pocket. He hesitated for a while, but then scrunched up against the bed's headboard and opened it. Something slipped out of the envelope, falling down to the floor. Dean slipped a glance at both his father and his brother, making sure they didn't wake up, and leaned over to pick up whatever came out of the envelope. He grimaced at the pain in his gut, biting his lip and waiting for the pain to ease before he brought the object closer for farther examination. It was a pendent – small and coppery, shaped like a large coin with all sorts of strange writings on it. Dean turned it over in his hands, carefully examining every small detail on it, before putting it on his stomach and taking the actual letter out. He unfolded it, straining his eyes to read in the dark.

_Dean,_

_I'm sorry to be doing this in a letter. Hell, I'm sorry to be doing this at all, but I have no choice. If this letter gets to you, then you didn't remember, and I ran out of time. Man, it sucks to even think that. I've waited so long to meet you again, and now you're finally here – admittedly, a little fuzzy from all the drugs, but you're here. Oh, and you're cute._

Dean grinned.

_There's a lot I need to tell you, but I'm not so sure that you will understand. I wish I could be there to help you through his. But enough about my self-pity. Time to tell you what you need to know, what you have to know._

_I'll start with the headaches. They're a bitch. But eventually, you'll recognize when one is coming before it gets too bad. Don't ignore them. Ever. They mean that something's coming, that something's threatening you or that you need to pay attention. Always, always pay attention. Not paying attention… well, it's a pain, literally. The more you ignore the headaches, the more frequent and painful they'll become. They can kill you, so pay attention, okay? If it gets too bad, if you're listening, and you still can't get rid of them, draw this somewhere on your body._

Dean gasped. There it was, the sigil he had drawn in the hospital! Heart racing, he kept on reading.

_Don't tattoo it or anything, just use a pen or something that fades. The headaches are there for a reason. In time, you'll learn to recognize them, recognize when they're going to come, and it won't be so bad. I promise. Oh, and Tylenol? Not helping._

_Next, we have the annoying, never ending, terribly out of tune chorus going on like you've got nothing better to do than listen to who knows how many voices speaking in who knows how many different languages – I could never figure it out – all at once._

Again, Dean grinned at the accurate description. He really wished he could have had some more time with her. Sighing, he read on.

_I don't really know much about those voices, only that I've been hearing them for as long as I can remember. Never as strongly as I did back in Montana, when I was with you, but still, they were there. I'm not sure what they are, or why we hear them, but back then, we managed to kick the crap out of a demon when we repeated them. They become clear when they actually have something to say. In time you'll get used to them, and you won't even hear them until you'll need them. And you will need them, Dean. We never killed the demon back in Montana, and now it's back. It's going to kill me, well, it's going to try. I'm not going anywhere without a fight. I've studied for years, I've been preparing for this, and now that you're finally here, I think I'm ready. Even if you're not. I think I can kill it and protect you. Oh, actually, you're reading this, so I guess I couldn't, and now it's probably after you. Oh, yeah, and there really are demons, and ghosts and spirits and stuff. Just in case you didn't already know that._

Dean couldn't help himself from grinning again, and wondering when she wrote it.

_Last but not least, the pendent you're holding - _

Dean reached for the pendent, giving it another look-over.

_It's not a gift. After what happened in Montana, I changed. Someone gave me this pendent, and I've changed. You have to be absolutely sure before you use it, because once you do, it will change you, and you won't be able to take it back. You don't have to do it if you don't want to, if you're not ready. I will never hold it against you._

_I had this dream last night; you were sleeping, like always, and I think I nodded off sometime, because I dreamt we were married and that we had this big house and this really cute kid. He was a real Energizer bunny – must take after you, because I never had that kind of energy._

Dean had to blink the tears away, but he was glad that she'd seen it, too, before she died. That she had felt that joy, even if it was in a dream.

_I'm sorry we'll never get the chance to see if it ever came true. I hope you live a long, happy life, and I hope I took care of that demon for you. Hell, I hope you never read this, that there'll never be a reason for you to read this, but we both know better._

_Don't be afraid of the change. And don't be afraid to choose a different path. Live your life to the fullest._

_Love, Anna._

Dean had to take a few deep breaths, running his hand over his eyes, before he recollected himself and opened his fist, looking at the pendent again. He didn't even hesitated before putting it on, and finally going to sleep.

* * *

Dean woke up by the feeling of being watched. He sat up quickly, hissing at the sudden pain in his gut, and was forced to lay back down for a couple of seconds. When the pain dissipated, he sat up again, more slowly this time, and was faced by the scrutinizing gazes of both his father and his brother. 

"What?" he asked, feeling a bit self-conscious, but the two men just kept staring at him. "Guys? Oh, come on, say something!" he said, and then noticed the folded papers in his father's hand. He flung his legs off the bed, sitting up, an unreadable expression on his face. "You read it." He said coolly, feeling a little betrayed, and completely ignored the fact that the room was spinning.

"And you're wearing it, aren't you?" John asked accusingly. "I thought we agreed, no more stupid decisions like that!"

"I can't believe you read it!" Dean said indignantly, snatching the papers from his father's hand.

"And I can't believe you put it on without talking to me first, Dean!" his father's voice was tempered, obviously angry. "Come on, Dean, you know better than that! Putting on some pendent when you don't even know who sent it to you,"

"I know who sent it!" Dean started, but his father ignored his protest and kept going.

"You don't even know what it does, what the effects may be. I mean, seriously, she says it right there – once you put it on, it changes you forever! You didn't think that was worth mentioning before you went ahead and did it?" John demanded, raising his voice. Dean looked angrily at him. He had no right to read his letter, his _private_ letter. And Sam seemed to be on his side. Has Sam read it too? Oh, of course he would. What geek would pass on a chance for a good read? Dean felt his anger intensifying. Even more so as the two pairs of eyes kept gaping at him, waiting for answers. You could think he had grown a tail and a set of horns overnight. Indignantly, he took the pendent off, tossing it at his father and sitting heavily on his bed, hands crossed across his chest, a scowl on his face. John seemed a little startled, not expecting his son's reaction, as he caught the pendent. "You think that would help?" he demanded, though his voice softened a little. "She said once you put it on, it changes you!" Dean just glowered at his father and his brother, saying nothing, waiting.

John took a closer look at the small object in his hand – the smallish, coin shaped pendent. He studied the small symbols etched onto it carefully, and then turned it in his hands. Dean smirked at his father's gasp, and couldn't hide the smug look on his face.

"This thing says 'Made in China' on the back!" John exclaimed.

"Yeah, I noticed." Dean smirked. John studied the object again, a confused look on his face as Sam reached out and snatched it from him, studying it himself. "It's not the pendent, dad." Dean sighed, "It was never the pendent." He said. "And the change doesn't happen over night. It's been a long time coming. She was just trying to use something I could try to wrap my head around in case I still couldn't remember." He explained, "She was trying to make it easier on me." John gave him a suspicious look. "Look, you read it yourself. She explains the headaches, the…" his voice trailed off and he bit his lip. It was too serious a talk to have without his morning coffee.

"The voices?" John inquired. Dean took a deep breath, his eyes going from his father to his brother and back again.

"Dad, Sam, I guess there's something I need to tell you." He said and sighed. That was going to be a very long talk. He really, really needed coffee. And then he started to explain everything, telling them everything about what he remembered from what had happened back in Montana, about Anna and what happened after the accident, and about the demons – all four of them, even though Green Eyes was now gone.

It was almost noon by the time Dean had finished, and the silence in the motel room was almost tangible. Dean leaned back against the headboard, feeling tired and annoyed at himself for feeling tired. Sam sat on the bed beside him, caught up in his own thoughts and still a little freaked out. Their dad was pacing the motel room like a caged lion on crack, muttering angrily to himself. Dean thought they took the news kinda' well, considering. He was pretty sure his kid brother would freak out – and he did – to learn that they now had more than just the one demon to face before this thing was over and he could go back to his apple-pie life and pretend he was no longer a part of the family. Actually, Dean didn't really think he would do that, pretend not to know them again, break all contact again. Things were better than they had been the last time Sam had left, or so Dean dared to hope. In any case, Sam wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. That was one heck of a silver lining as far as Dean was concerned. As far as his dad was concerned… Well, the old man didn't get a heart attack or popped a blood vessel, so that must have been a good sign. He actually seemed to be handling it pretty well – shattered mirror and chair aside. Dean figured his father must be in need of one hell of a drink, but he wasn't going to let it happen. Not again. He was going to be very careful about how much his father was drinking. This wasn't going to be like after mom died. Not again.

"What the hell are we supposed to do now?" John finally shouted, throwing his hands in the air and making both his sons jump. "We don't even have the Colt anymore. And there's only one bullet left anyway! Three more demons? How are we supposed to handle that?" he cried, and Dean straightened.

"Dad, screw the Colt." He said, only to receive an irritated glare form his father. "No, I mean it. Don't you get it? We don't need it anymore. Sammy and me, we don't need the Colt to kill those sonsofbitchs!" Dean said, glancing at his shocked brother.

"Come again?" Sam said in a small voice and Dean gave a slight shrug.

"All we need's a little practice," Dean said, "especially from you, college boy. You can kill those bastards with those freak powers of yours. And now I can help."

* * *

Epilogue

Sam and Dean got out of the diner, wishing they had never gotten in and ate the unbelievingly disgusting food that they now fought to keep down. They started their way to the car, Dean reminding Sam once again that he still owed him a car, and that it had better be a chick-magnet, when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence. A figure caught his eye, standing on the other side of the street. Sam looked back at his brother to see what stopped his smart-ass remarks (just so he would know to repeat it when needed), and noticed the dark look on his brother's face.

"Dean? What is it?" he asked, now a little worried. Dean didn't answer. He crossed the street, Sam at his heel, and walked over to the man standing in the shadows.

"You're a very difficult man to track down," the man said. Sam looked from the strange older man to his brother, waiting for an introduction of some explanation. "I mean, it's okay. It's good to know you're being careful." The man added quickly. Dean gave a slight nod, clearing his throat.

"Listen, Mr. Scott, I'm really sorry about Anna…" he said in a somewhat strangled voice. Tom Scott gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Nah, it wasn't your fault." Tom said, and the two of them lowered their eyes, taking a moment. Sam decided it was best to disappear into the background, waiting, until his brother needed him. Tom gave Dean a small smile. "Hey, at least she died quickly, right?" he said. Dean raised a brow, and then realized Tom didn't know. He swallowed, giving a slight nod. He wasn't going to tell this man his niece died slowly, agonizingly. "You know, she knew it was coming." Tom went on, "Had known for a long time. Poor girl lived in fear all her life. At least now she's finally at peace." Dean gave a small nod, lowering his eyes, and there was a long moment of silence before Tom said, "Listen, she wanted you to have this." He reached in his pocket, taking out a small box the size of a jewelry box, giving it to Dean, who looked questioningly at him. Tom put his hands in his pockets as Dean opened the small box and gasped. He passed it on to Sam, showing him the box's contents. Sam's eyes went wide, feeling a little unsteady on his feet all of a sudden. They exchanged a glance. The small box held just one thing. A bullet. The last of the Colt's bullets. "She wanted me to tell you that you don't need this, but she still wanted you to have it." Tom said, brushing the wetness out of his eyes. Dean gave a little nod.

"Thanks, Mr. Scott. This really means a lot." He said, "I wish there was something I could do for you, some way to repay you for everything…" but Tom just gave a small smile, shaking his head, and reached his hand forward to shake Dean's, before he turned and left, trying to disappear in the shadows. Sam gave his brother a second before nearing him.

"Is that bullet really from the Colt?" he asked, his heart hammering, "You mean there's still a bullet left?"

"Looks like." Dean said wryly, clearing his throat again. Sam stared at him for a moment.

"I thought you said we didn't need it anymore." Dean kept his eyes on the disappearing Tom until he was gone before shoving the bullet deep down his pocket and tossing the box. He gave his brother his usual grin.

"We don't."

The End

A/N: Just wanted to say a big Thank You to all the people that reviewed or put this story in their favorites list. You're great, guys, you really kept me going! Also, special thanks to Kat, H.T. Marie and Halcyon Impulsion for their constant encouragement! Couldn't have done it without you! Hope you all enjoyed the story, I sure enjoyed writing it. :P


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